


when the meaning's gone (there is clarity)

by mindelan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Use, Mission Fic, Rebelcaptain Secret Santa, Undercover as Married, but they're basically married already sO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindelan/pseuds/mindelan
Summary: At the beginning of their relationship, Jyn struggles to figure out just how much she's willing to sacrifice for both Cassian and the Alliance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacepandar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepandar/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays sasha!! the prompt was "before you." i really hope i've done it justice and that you enjoy the fic! 
> 
> this is very loosely based on an episode of the americans. i won't say which, so i don't spoil anything here, but if you've seen the show, you'll know what im talking about
> 
> title from "moment's silence (common tongue)" by hozier!

Jyn’s not cut out for Intelligence work. It’s even in her file –– she’s too volatile, too reckless, and unable to keep a cover if it means she can’t punch an Imperial in the face. She doesn’t have a problem with her current arrangement either; working with the Pathfinders is much more her speed, especially considering that Han Solo mostly lets her do whatever the hell she wants. If she had her way, she wouldn’t do any spying at all.

But Cassian has asked for specifically her as his partner for this mission, and who is she to ever deny him anything?

Still, she takes a moment to warn him about things he likely already knows, to make sure this is what he really wants. There’s other, more qualified agents that the Alliance has to offer; compared to them, she doesn’t know why Cassian has pulled some strings and went over the Council’s head to invite her to join him.

She’s flattered, really, but this? Spying, sneaking around, gathering intel? This isn’t what she’s meant to do with the Rebellion. Intelligence work isn’t in her skillset; the personas she’s adapted over her lifetime are nothing but extensions of herself. As much as she wants to work alongside him, there’s no point in trying to shove a triangle-shaped block into a circle-shaped hole.

Mostly, though, she just doesn’t want him to see her inadequacy. The two of them are in the very beginnings of a romantic relationship with each other; will he, she wonders, still want her after she fucks all of this up?

(Probably not. “Welcome home” means nothing if it’s clear she doesn’t belong here.)  

“I want you by my side for this one,” Cassian shrugs when she approaches him. He adds after a beat, face falling for a split-second, “Do you not want to come? You don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel as if I’m pressuring you, or anything of that sort –– ”

“Hey,” she reaches out, rests her hand on his bicep, silencing him effectively with just one touch. “I _want_ to come, I just don’t think I’ll be any good at it.” With her luck, they’ll probably end up in prison.

“You’re good at plenty of things,” he protests, brow furrowing. “I wouldn’t have asked for you if I didn’t think you could do it.”

“What about Corporal Hendricks? Doesn’t she usually come with you on these things?”

“Like I said, Jyn. I want _you_ with me on this one, not Corporal Hendricks.”

She hums non-committedly, turning her head to the side to hide the blush rising up at her cheeks at his praise.

“Besides,” he murmurs after a beat, smirk pulling up at his lips. His voice, she notes, gets considerably husky as he continues to speak, “When’s the last time I’ve ever gotten caught?”

Before she can respond, a great, hulking shadow looms over the two of them from behind Cassian. “You got caught on Jedha,” Kaytoo interrupts. “I wasn’t there, but I read it in your debrief. Saw Gererra’s men put you in prison. You got _caught_.”

“He’s not wrong,” she remarks dryly, with a wink in Cassian’s direction.

Kay glances in her direction. “I have not forgotten about your record, Jyn Erso.”

“Oh, really?”

Cassian groans, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips as if to stave off a headache. It’s useless to even try to prevent it; Kaytoo always manages to give her the biggest migraines. “Thank you, Kay.”

Kay’s head swivels to the side as if he’s taking Jyn in for the first time, but she knows he noticed her presence as soon as he clambered over here. She huffs out a sigh; he’s just being _dramatic_ –– as usual. To Cassian, “Is she coming with us?”

“ _She_ can hear you,” Jyn snarks right back, propping her hands on her hips. “And yes. I’m coming with you.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, the decision is made, clicking into place. She’s going along on an operation she’s definitely not qualified for just to spite Kaytoo.

Truthfully, she’d made up her mind long before this conversation; if she could go along with Cassian on every mission to keep him out of trouble, she would. Whenever he tells her he has to leave, the thought of sneaking and hiding in the back of his ship always passes through her brain –– though she knows her presence would likely make a mess more often than not.

An irritated look slides across Kay’s face, and it only grows more sour when he has to glance at Cassian for confirmation.

“You heard her, Kay,” Cassian says calmly. “She’s coming with us.”

_“Why?"_

“Because I asked her to,” Cassian replies, not as calmly as before.

“Why would you do that? There is a sixty-seven percent chance that Jyn Erso’s presence will –– “

“Kay, can you give us a minute please?” He interrupts, smiling weakly as he shoots his droid a look. “We’ll meet you at the ship.”

“Fine,” Kaytoo responds sullenly, already beginning to stomp away. “I will finish preparing the shuttle for our mission with Jyn Erso, even though I don’t want to. It is mostly done anyway.”

Once Kay’s seemingly out of earshot, Cassian turns back to Jyn. “You know Kay. He always gets upset when something messes up his routine,” he apologizes weakly, running a hand through his hair. “For the record, _I_ want you to come along.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him,” she waves him off with a small smile. “I’m used to it.”

“He means well.”

At that, she raises a brow. “Does he?”

Cassian huffs out a sigh, shaking his head, changing the subject. They both know that Kaytoo really only cares for Cassian’s safety. “I’m guessing you didn’t read the mission prep.”

“I read _most_ of the mission prep,” she corrects, amusement dancing in her eyes. “The interesting bits, anyway.”

“Jyn.”

“Why would I read the rest of the mission prep when I know you’ve already read it for me?”

Sighing, he reaches out and snags her hand. It startles her at first, but when he goes to pull away (presumably thinking she doesn’t want his touch), she tightens her grip. Casual acts of intimacy are unfamiliar to her, but they’re not unwelcome –– especially not from him.

“We can brief once we get to hyperspace,” he tells her, a hint of a blush rising up on his cheeks. “You’ll be playing my wife. It’s why I asked for you specifically. I thought you might want to.”

“Why, Cassian,” she purrs, picking up her to-go bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “If you wanted to get married, you should have just asked me.”

“Jyn,” he starts, mock-serious, “will you marry me?”

“Of course, Captain,” she simpers, sliding into the role of an Imperial wife all too easily, fanning herself with a hand. She then adds in a whisper, “I did read _that_ in the briefing.”

Despite her joking, she’s glad he’d asked her to come along. This is her first real relationship, so she doesn’t know if jealousy is going to be a problem for her. However, the image of another sentient wrapped around him makes her want to punch a wall.

(Jealousy will _probably_ be an issue she has to deal with in the future.)

“If you two are quite finished, we need to leave,” Kaytoo interrupts, calling up from where he’s sitting in the cockpit. Cassian shoots Jyn an apologetic glance, but she shoos him away nonetheless. “I already calculated the jump to hyperspace while you were out there making eyes at –– ”

“I’m coming up, Kay!” he shouts back, climbing up the ladder.

She smirks to herself, dropping her bag in an empty chair and taking a seat herself. It’s not long before the ship takes off into the air and she feels the familiar jolt of the transition into hyperspace, lurching forward slightly.

Once the shuttle has settled again, Cassian comes down to meet her. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand to help her up out of her chair.

She raises a brow. “Shouldn’t we be going over the briefing? I mean, I’m not complaining –– you know I hate reading most of that shite –– but I don’t think now is the time to be –– ”

Cassian levels her with a _Look_ , and she closes her mouth, but not without a smirk and amusement dancing in her eyes.

“You need to try on your dress,” he explains. “You weren’t the Council’s first choice for the mission, and I couldn’t find a replacement quick enough. If it needs adjustments, I’ll have to do some tailoring before we get to Coruscant.”

“The hell you going on about? A dress?”

“Well, I already said you’d be playing my wife,” he starts slowly, hesitating slightly before entering the cargo bay. Concern tugs at his features, tinted with confusion. “You need to look the part, too.”

The first thing her eyes focus on when she enters the room is the glittery, gold dress hanging of the racks. The hem barely scrapes the floor, but she can already tell it’s going to be too long for her, that there’s too much fabric and it’ll swallow her small frame. She stands frozen for a couple seconds, then turns to Cassian, her eyes comically wide.

“What, exactly,” she starts slowly, jaw clenching and unclenching, “are we going to be doing on this mission?”

What crosses Cassian’s face _could_ be defined as a smirk, but at least he has the decency to look slightly bashful. “There is –– ah, a more formal aspect to this mission.”

 _The party. Psfassk,_ of course! How could she have forgotten?

Kriffing hell, she hadn’t been thinking she’d need to wear something like _this!_ Foolishly, she’d just assumed she’d be wearing something similar to what she already has on; the few undercover missions she’d done at Cassian’s side as his wife had involved just that: just her fatigues.

Force, she hasn’t been thinking. In all of the whirlwind of thinking that she isn’t good enough for this mission, other, simpler aspects of it had been ignored.

Like wearing a kriffing ridiculous dress to a kriffing ball.

_May maggots crawl up your spine and bury themselves beneath your skin!_

“Clearly,” she drawls, but there’s no humor in it, not anymore. Her face pinched and sour. “Please tell me there are more options –– ” she flaps her hand behind her. “More than just _that_.”

“You only need to wear it for a couple hours,” Cassian soothes, taking a step forward. He reaches out, rubbing her arm gently, before sliding up his hand and cupping her cheek, running his thumb over her cheekbone. “You’ll be fine, _quierda_.”

Instead of answering to that, she turns petulantly and examines the dress once again. If she were a different person, she probably would have be delighted to wear a garment like this –– it’s _beautiful,_ even she can admit that –– but she’s not. She’s Jyn Erso, former criminal and current rebel.

And that’s not the type meant to wear the kind of finery hanging on the rack in front of her.

“Besides, you’ll look –– “

“ _Cassian_ ,” she interrupts, voice strangled and choked off as she notices yet another damning detail. It feels as if the stars are aligning, telling them that she shouldn't be the one going on this mission. “It’s _backless_. I can’t –– I can’t wear this.”

The adjustments he had been thinking of making were likely superficial things, such as taking in the waist or raising the hem. There’s no way he could add more fabric to the dress without ruining the entire thing, and if Cassian is to be believed, there are no other options.

He doesn’t get it, not at first, but when he sees her desperate eyes and shaking hands, it finally clicks for him. _“!Mierda!”_ he swears softly, running his hand through his hair, pacing a few steps away from her. “Jyn, this dress –– it was not made for you, but we don’t have any other options. Is there a way we can ––  _Kay!”_

He turns away from her, head craned and calling up to the cockpit. Her fingers slide through the fabric, rubbing the material between her fingers.

“They go all the way down, Cassian,” she whispers hoarsely, scrubbing a hand over her face. “You know that. You’ve seen them.”

The scars in question are the ones made by a whip from Wobani. All it had taken had been an overeager, young ‘trooper, a brawl she’d (foolishly) started in the work yard, and the permission of the higher-ups to do whatever was needed to quell the “uprising.”

“Hey, hey, don’t panic,” he’s suddenly back at her side again, tugging her hands away from the dress in an attempt to soothe her, to draw her back to herself and out of her panic. “We’ll figure it out, hmm? We always do.”

“Right,” she says, clenching her jaw, schooling herself back into calm. It would be fine –– she has to believe that, or risk all of this going to shit. “Right.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, then pauses, a contemplative note passing over his gaze. “What about this?”

“Hmm?”

He tugs at the scarf around her neck gently, unravelling it once she gives him a curt nod of approval. It’s a dark green, plain and slightly stained with a rip at one of the corners. “It could work,” he muses, holding it up next to the dress. “The colors match, and it’ll cover up most of the scars. . .”

“I could not find anything that would work, Cassian,” Kay’s voice cuts in, loping into the room. “Not unless you want Jyn Erso wrapped up in a bedsheet –– oh. It seems that you have already found a solution.”

“It will have to do,” she replies grimly, holding up the scarf next to the garment. So long as no one looks too closely, they won’t notice anything amiss. With some careful stitching, they should be able to cover up most of the back. 

Kaytoo takes another step forward, plucking the fabric out of Jyn’s hands with two fingers as if it’s an offending article. His gears whirl, clearly calculating something, then says, “There is a eighty-seven chance you will gain unwanted attention, but it is unlikely anyone will think much about it.”

“It doesn’t matter if we’re noticed. It’s a party –– people will see us. It’s only natural,” Cassian waves a hand. “The only thing we need to do is get an audience with the rebel sympathizer before the night is over.”

“Birhil, right?” Jyn questions, mouth curling in a half-smile. “Heard he’s all beauty, no brains.”

He raises a brow, looking amused despite himself. “Glad to hear that you’ve read some of the prep.”

“I read the important parts,” she repeats yet again in her defence, shooting back her response just as quick. At his expression, she adds mulishly, “Must have missed the parts about the dress, though.”

“It wasn’t a long briefing, Jyn Erso,” Kay cuts in, head swiveling in her direction. “Usually, Cassian’s are much longer.”

“I had better things to do,” she mutters.

“I’ll fill you in on the rest,” Cassian promises, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her away from the droid before a fight breaks out between the two of them. “Come on, Jyn.”

As they leave the cargo bay, Jyn mouths behind Cassian’s back, _“This isn’t over.”_

At Kay’s affronted glare, she can’t help but laugh. She reaches out, snatches the dress off of the rack and slings it over her shoulder. Now that the first problem is out of the way, she can focus on other aspects of it that need changing; it looks like Cassian will have to do some stitching after all.

The rest of the flight passes relatively smoothly, especially compared to the rough start. She’s right about the hem –– Cassian has to take a couple inches off of the bottom to make it short enough for her to walk it, even with the ridiculous heels she has to wear. The rest of it fits her surprisingly well; Corporal Hendricks –– the woman that the Council had originally had in mind for this mission –– is closer to Jyn's side than she'd realized. 

It's a bit tricker to sew the scarf into the inside, especially with the intricate beading around the edges and not having enough fabric, but he somehow manages to turn it into a half-decent product. 

It’s a pain to get into the dress once the time comes to get ready, but something warm unfurls in her chest when she sees Cassian’s reaction to it, with his eyes all lit up and mouth curling into a smile. He looks at her as if he can’t get enough, as if she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

Her cheeks color when he comes behind her to zip up the bottom, even more so when he presses a kiss right at the top of her spine. “You look gorgeous,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “No sentient will be able to take their eyes off of you for the whole night.”

She rolls her eyes, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose and groan in mock annoyance, but she drops her hand once she remembers herself. Only a few minutes ago she had painstaking applied layers of make-up on her face; she doesn’t want to touch it now and risk it all –– _falling off_.

“Everything’s covered?”

His hand skims her lower back, fingers touching both the exposed skin and scarf. “You can’t see a thing.”

“Okay,” she exhales, feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. _This_ is why she doesn’t do Intelligence work, _this_ is why she isn’t cut out for it. “Okay. Good.”

“I’m sorry, again.”

“Don’t apologize, Cassian. It’s not your fault.”

“Still. . .”

She reaches out, settles a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it through the fabric. “Stop. I’m glad you asked me. I want to be here.”

Cassian holds out his arm for her with a soft smile, and she takes a moment to appreciate how the tuxedo he’s wearing manages to hug him in all the right places. “Your ass looks fantastic, by the way,” she murmurs as she steps forward, reaching down to squeeze said ass softly before taking his arm.

He yelps, swatting her away. “What am I going to do with you, Mrs. Sward?” he teases as they walk down the ramp, smoothing over his voice as if he hadn’t just squeaked in protest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says haughtily, but all cockiness leaves her voice when she looks up and sees the building they’re about to enter.

She’d seen the mansion while Kay had landed the shuttle, but she hadn’t thought –– she’d _assumed_ –– it’s so kriffing _fancy!_

_Son of a bantha –– !_

He notices her distress almost immediately, a reaction to which she equates his thorough Intelligence training. “You’ll be fine,” he soothes. “It’s only for a few hours, remember?”

“Right,” she grunts, then shakes her head. It’s only for a night. With that in mind, she tugs him up and steps and forward. “Let’s get this show on the road, Cassian.”

_“Now introducing Mr. and Mrs. Joreth Sward!”_

The ballroom is stifling. There are so many people around them, milling about, that she can barely move. She stays pressed up at Cassian’s side, offering a forced smile when introduced to someone, trying not to let her anxieties and insecurities show on her face.

As they mill around the room, she scans faces, trying to find their contact. Malius Birhil. Part of an Imperial crime family here on Coruscant. Apparently, he’s sympathetic to the rebel cause. They’re supposed to feel it out, see if it’s worth setting up a meeting with him. Introduce themselves, ask a few pointed questions and figure out if the information Intelligence gathered is true.

That’s all they have to do. Once they make contact with Birhil, they can leave –– and the sooner they find him, the better.

The scarf covers most of her skin but not all; she can feel a slight breeze lifting it up every so often. All she can do is hope that it covers the majority of her scars, as there’s no going back now. If someone asks about them, she’ll figure out a lie. Captured by rebels maybe, to garner some sympathy, or –– 

_Psfassk!_

Something sharp pricks her back, effectively ending her train of thoughts. Jyn bites down on a curse, shoulders straightening. Immediately, she’s on high alert, head swiveling in all directions to look for the perpetrator, but whoever had done it is long gone, swallowed by the crowd.

What had done it? A knife, a broken piece of _something_? Had it been accidental or on purpose? Normally, she'd assume the latter, but no one knew her here. Why would someone try to stab an Imperial wife?

Besides, if they had been trying to kill her, they'd done a shoddy job. With that, she decides to chalk it up to an coincidence, even though she feels some residual paranoia lingering. It doesn't make sense, but she doesn't have time to think about it right now. She'll bring it up to Cassian later, on the ship. 

They have a mission to complete. 

Cassian notices her discomfort. “You okay?” he murmurs, and she hears what goes unvoiced. _Do you need to go back to the ship? Do we need to leave?_

She straightens, smiling wanly. “I’m fine,” she insists, reaching back and trying to tug her scarf down a little farther on her back to cover the mark. From what she can tell, it doesn’t feel like a big wound –– nothing more than a scratch, really. So what if a little blood gets on the dress? It’s not _hers_ ; she won’t have to deal with cleaning it.

More importantly, she needs to show Cassian that she can do this, that she’s good enough to complete this mission at his side. After all, he’d asked for her specifically. She can’t bear to let him down, not when they were so close to successfully completing it.

“Ellana?”

His voice shakes her out of mind, his elbow nudging her side gently. It’s clear that he doesn’t believe her half-hearted attempts to reassure him (though, to be fair, she usually tends to not be fine when she insists that she is). “Don’t worry about me, Joreth,” she practically purrs, trying to fit herself back into the mold of a loving Imperial wife. She stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Come on, introduce me to your friends. I’ve heard so much about them.”

“Of course, dear,” he murmurs, and there’s no mistaking the fondness in his eyes –– but there’s no mistaking the worry, either. He wraps her arm around his own, her hand placed in the crook of his elbow as he begins to lead her forward. “Come along.”

As she follows behind him, she blinks away a film of haze that’s settled over her eyes, blurring her vision. They make their rounds, going from couple to couple, and Jyn tries to focus, really, she does, but –– 

_Hell, why is it so hot in here all of the sudden?_

Instead of taking off her scarf, she wraps it tighter around her chest, gritting her teeth against the discomfort. All she wants to do is rip it off, take off her dress, and jump into a cold shower. Wearily, she raises a heavy hand to her forehead, brushing the sweat off of her skin. It’s going to ruin her makeup. Her makeup is going to slide right off and then all these Imperials will know who she is and she and Cassian are going to get locked up and ––

“And this is my wife, Ellana.”

Jyn blinks back into reality, struggling to refocus on the situation. She can do this. In a few hours, the party will be over and they’ll hopefully have made contact with the rebel. She can do this, she has to do this, or else both of them are screwed.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she manages, smiling weakly, hoping it isn't clear that her expressions are forced. The couple in front of them are impeccably dressed; for a moment (a selfish moment), she finds herself jealous of the woman’s easy beauty. “Do you work with Joreth?”

“Nah,” the man says, waving her off dismissively. “Joreth here does all that secret stuff that we grunts don’t have the clearance to know about.”

Cassian’s hand tightens around her arm. All she can manage to say is, “Ah.”

“We don’t talk about work at home. Ellana and I prefer to keep those spheres of our lives separate. It just makes things easier.”

“Maybe we should consider doing that, eh? Would stop a lot of our more vicious arguments. . .”

Her head spins. Stars, she really needs to lay down. The ballroom seems to whirl around her. The chattering voices grate on her ears, and she squeezes her eyes shut for just a second, forcing her rebellious stomach to _behave_.

Her back burns, right where she'd been caught on something. It feels as if there's fire coursing through her veins, hot and all consuming. She sucks a breath in, but can't manage to exhale, the air stutters in her lungs, making her light-headed, dizzy, swaying on her feet. 

This can't all be from nerves, right? Jyn Erso doesn't faint, doesn't pass out because of nerves. But right now? Right now, she's about two seconds away from falling onto the floor. It’s all so overwhelming, and the urge to run is so strong that Jyn nearly breaks Cassian’s hold on her and sprints out of the room, finery and all, before she remembers herself.

And then suddenly –– 

_relief._

There’s a cold hand on her cheek, tilting her face upwards toward the harsh, artificial lights. She struggles against the hold, groaning and trying to close her eyes, but Cassian’s soothing voice saps all of the fight out of her.

“It’s just me, Ellana. I’ve got you. Try to stay awake, okay?”

To the couple, she can hear his apologies, something about her having a tendency for fainting when she gets too stressed or overwhelmed. She wants to interject, to say that she’s never fainted in her  _life,_ but then Cassian’s sweeping her off her feet and jogging out of the ballroom and she forgets what she’d been planning on telling him.

Darkness eats away at her vision. She can barely make out Cassian’s voice urging her to just open her eyes, but she can’t. As much as she wants to, wants to see his face one more time, she _can’t_.

Her last thought before succumbing to unconscious is that she’s ruined the mission and failed him. That's what hits home the hardest. 

_She's failed him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jyn's dress references: [one](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/855965472899648658/) | [two](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/Ac_71FOLttXtxMvEylBmQxvnY-EaBV1JjMBILUHG24sjUS3aZTwCNHk/)
> 
> thank you for reading and i hope y'all enjoyed! find me on tumblr at [jynirso](https://jynirso.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

_“Is everything all right, Captain Sward?”_

_“Ah – yes. It’s just my wife, she has trouble in big crowds. Make her nervous. Some fresh air will do her good, I think. If you would just let us pass – ”_

_“Do you need anything, sir? Refreshments, a private room? I’m sure Commander Birhil would be willing to let you stay the night. I can comm him, if you’d like.”_

_“No, no. I know she would be most comfortable on our ship. Do give my regards to the commander, though. I regret we didn’t have time to speak with him.”_

_“I’ll pass the word along, sir.”_

_“Thank you, private.”_

 

Thankfully, Jyn’s fainting spell doesn’t last for long. As soon as they’re out of the ballroom, she starts to stir, shifting in a pair of arms she doesn’t recognize. Her head is fuzzy, vision blurry; for a few seconds upon first waking up, she has no idea where she is or what’s going on – all she knows is that she she’s in pain.

 _Who’s with her? Who’s carrying her?_ _Where’s Cassian, she wants Cassian, she wants her ma because it hurts –_

Immediately, Cassian tightens his grip around her, not wanting her to fall and further injure herself. “Shh,” he soothes, though his fast pace jostles her, bouncing in his arms. “It’s okay. You’re with me. I’ve got you.”

Her back _burns_. She bites her lip, stifling her cries every time she moves, every time something rubs against the cut. It’s _agony_. The only thing she can think of to distract herself is to talk, to focus on his voice and ignore everything else.

“Mhmm,” she mumbles, head lolling back. It’s heavy, too heavy, and she doesn’t want to hold it up anymore. “Wha’ happ’n?”

“You just passed out,” his voice is cranked tight, but she can hear the cracks in it, the worry that’s peeking through. “Jyn, you should have _said_ something! What the hell were you thinking?”

“Not bad,” she says, turning her face into his chest. Her eyes close; she’s not in danger of falling unconscious again, but the night’s activities have left her exhausted. “Didn’t…didn’t know.”

“You should have said something when you first started feeling faint,” he repeats, hitching her higher. “As your commanding officer, I need to know these things. If you’re anxious, or panicking in a crowd, or…”

He trails off, and Jyn knows what his line of thought is. He doesn’t know about the wound on her back, but how could he? She’d been so determined to prove herself, and to do that, had stayed silent, risking both the mission and her own safety.

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head weakly, trying to force the words out. “Not that. Not. . .anxious. Didn’t faint.”

“What do you mean? I saw you – _everyone_ saw you just pass out – “

She reaches up, grips his coat tighter with a trembling hand, hoping the small movement will shut him up for a second. “My back,” she tells him, trying to stay strong but it comes out like a whimper. “Something…it _hurts,_ Cassi.”

She has to grit her teeth against the pain, squeezing her eyes shut, scrunching her face up because of the intensity of it. “Someone got me.”

 _“What?_ What are you talking about?”

But by that time the realization hits him, they’re already at the ship. In a few, quick seconds, he’s got her laid out on her stomach and is pulling away the scarf from her back, sweat-soaked and likely covered in her blood, sticking to her skin.

She moans when it brushes against her heated skin, trying to shift away from him when his cold fingers touch her back. “Don’ _touch_ me. . .hurts.“

“I need to see the cut, Jyn,” he says, cupping her cheek and smoothing her hair back. She blinks up at him warily, his form blurry and shifting before her gaze. “I have to pull back the dress, okay?”

It already hurts so much – what’s a few more seconds of pain? Her stomach lurches, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any other choice. She grits her teeth and nods, holding her breath and bracing herself.

But she’s not ready.

If anything, Cassian’s movements seem to make it unbearable. She chokes on a sob, arching her back and trying to move away from him until cool metal is pressed against her shoulders, holding her down. Vaguely, she hears someone babbling; she’s not in the right mindset to realize that it’s her, _begging_ for him to stop.

“Please, please _stop_ , it hurts, _it hurts, please, Cassian_ – please, it _hurts_ – ”

“I need scissors or a vibroblade or _something_ ,” he grits out, voice sounding far away. As soon as she’s no longer pinned, she’s pushing up against Cassian’s hands on her lower back, trying to get off the bed and away from what’s causing her back to feel as if her skin is melting away from her bones.

“I am detecting high levels of distress. I would recommend giving her a sedative to get her heartbeat back to a normal level.”

“Until we figure out what she has been dosed with, I’m not risking giving her anything that might make it worse. Give those to me. I need to. . .”

A blade presses against her spine, sending a jolt of fear through her body. For a second, she thinks that he’s going to cut her open, that he’s going to perform some sort of make-shift surgery right here on the shuttle, but the sounds of fabric ripping makes her relax, if only a little.

Cool air brushes against her heated skin, and she sighs. Hands tug her dress off of her overheated skin until she’s nearly naked from the waist up, her breast band the only thing providing her with a semblance of modesty. For a few seconds, the pressure and fire emanating from her lower back ebates to something more manageable.

And then someone starts to clean the wound with something that burns worse than the poison licking up her skin.

Vaguely, she recognizes that someone is screaming, the sound distant and echoing around the room, unfamiliar to her ears. Someone else is holding her down, arms wrapped around her head and shoulders, murmuring nonsense into her ear.

“ _Fuck!_ Stop, stop _stopstopstop_ – it hurts, you have to stop! Please stop – please, please – ”

Jyn Erso never begs, and yet here she is, pleading for the pain to end like a _child._

She must blackout for a couple of seconds, waking up with a hoarse throat and tense muscles. There’s something cold on her back; when she shifts, it moves with her, feeling like a brick of ice sliding across her skin.

The two standing in front of her are talking, but she, being so delirious with the pain and on the edge of unconsciousness, can’t hear a word they’re saying. She jolts out if it when Cassian crouches in front of her, pushing back her sweat-soaked hair with a cool hand. Sighing in pleasure, she pushes back against him, her feverish skin craving the relief that his touch gives her.

“Jyn,” he says gently, tilting her head up. “Are you with me?”

 _All the way_. That’s the response he’s looking for, the one she’s supposed to give, but her mouth isn’t working properly right now. “Mhm.”

“Kay and I don’t exactly know what’s wrong with you,” he murmurs, blunt and to the point. “And I want to be sure before we give you anything.”

There’s a _‘but’_ somewhere, Jyn knows. She only has to wait a second or two before she hears it.

“But we have to run some tests, okay? Kay needs a tissue sample to figure out what kind of poison it is so we can start working on the antidote. And we also need. . .” he grimaces. “We have to draw some blood.”

That gets a reaction out of her. She knows what that means, drawing blood – it means needles. If she’s lucky, the sight of it will only send her into a panic attack, unable to breathe when it gets anywhere near her.

If she’s not, it’ll force her back into her memories, of her dealer forcing her to take the drug (inhaling spice and injecting other things) until she’d gotten addicted and forced into the business, of the pains she’d went to in order to get what she needed, and the overdose that had almost killed her.

(The last time, she hadn’t been lucky.)

She closes her eyes, all muscles in her body tensing – trying to curl in on herself, to get away from the promised threat. There’s a reason she would rather let herself get sick over getting the Alliance’s “required” immuno boosters.

Cassian must see the look on her face. “I know,” he whispers. “If there was any other way, we would do it. But we need to see how much is in your bloodstream and how fast the poison is progressing.”

“I don’t – ” she struggles to voice it in a different way, but there’s only one way to say it. “I don’t want to.” Pitiful, weak.

“I know,” he repeats, eyes sad. “I know.”

“Is there any – “ she pants, a wave of pain making her grit her teeth, grinding down on her jaw, “any other way?”

But she already knows the answer to that.

“I’ll do it as quick as I can,” he tells her, forcing a comforting smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And I’ll be with you the entire time. I promise.”

Jyn lets out a heavy breath, preparing herself for the inevitable. When Kay goes to take the tissue sample, she barely feels it. Her back is in so much pain already; his touch, while gentle, only adds to the fire exuding outwards.

_Breathe._

Cassian’s with her the entire time, just like he’d said he would be, brushing her hair back and murmuring soothing sounds. She’s not relaxed – far from it – but his presence calms her significantly. Without him, she would definitely be in a much worse place.

She blinks, resting her eyes for a second. When she opens them again, Cassian is gone from her side, so she mumbles blearily, “Cassi?”

“I’m here,” he murmurs from somewhere behind her, cool hands manuerving her arm into a better angle.

She makes a muffled noise of protest, knowing what’s coming next. “Quickly. Please.”

“Of course. I promise.”

A part in the back of her mind tells her to stay awake, but she ignores it. If she passes out now, she doubts she’ll be able to wake up. At least the pain is doing a good job of holding her here, even if it’s going to push her over the edge sooner rather than later.

“Ready?”

She blinks at his next words, opening her eyes once again to see him holding a needle.

_Son of a bantha._

Immediately, her blood _roars_ in her ears. She can’t focus on anything except the syringe in his hands, and she straightens as much as she can lying down, so fast it made her dizzy.

“No – no, Cass –” she scrambles back as far as she could on the cot, panting heavily. She’s back in that alley again, drugged out of her mind and nearly overdosing. Her breaths start to come faster and faster, and she struggles against his hold, trying to get to where the needle pierces her skin. It’s in the same spot, digging through old scar tissue, and she wants to tear at it with her broken nails as if to rip the track marks off of her skin and out of her mind.

_“Cassian, we need to give her some sort of sedative. She’s going to hurt herself.”_

_“I’ve got this under control, Kay!”_

Instead of being on the shuttle, she’s sixteen again and laying in a dirty alley here on Coruscant, with her dealer standing over with a needle in his hands. The fever burning up her skin only heightens the hallucinations, and she’s almost too far gone to recognize Cassian crouching in front of her instead, doing his best to make the process as quickly and painlessly as possible.

“No, please - no, I’ve had enough, I’ve had enough – ” she begs, thrashing around. The form in front of her wavers, flashing between Cassian and the other man, pinning her down, forcing this drug into her veins. “I’ve had enough, I don’t _need_ anymore!”

When the pain stops, she doesn’t even realize it, still stuck in the haze of her mind. The prick of a needle is such a small feeling, after all, and it’s not that that’s sent her into this memory. She doesn’t even realize when he crouches in front of her once again, reaching out for her thrashing form.

“Jyn. Can you hear me? It’s Cassian. You’re safe. You’re twenty-four and on a shuttle with Kay and I. You’re safe.”

“Don’t – “ her vision swims, and she lashes out, pushing away from him. Her brain doesn’t fully recognize who he is, but it’s slowly becoming clearer, sharper. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay, okay. I’m not going to touch you. You’re safe here, but I need you to come back to yourself, Jyn. You’re not Liana or Tanith or Kestrel – you’re Jyn Erso and I need you back here with me, okay?”

She blinks. Once, twice – slowly coming back to herself, using his words as a tether to break free.

“I’ve put some bacta on. It should slow the poison to a manageable speed as I work on the antidote.”

Cassian turns his head slightly, nodding his thanks. “Do you know anything yet?”

She hears whirring, feels the vibration of the ship underneath her. The bed she’s lying on is hard against her stomach, pushing against her stomach, her breasts. She groans softly, shifting on the cot. The area around her – it’s not Coruscant, not an alleyway. The man in front of her, he’s –

“I would advise giving her stims to keep her conscious,” Kay says. “My scans detect that without them, the poison will put in her a coma-like state in about an hour.”

“What about with them?” Cassian grits out. “How long does she have?”

She knows him, it’s –

“Her chances will be better with the antidote,” is all Kaytoo replies. For some reason, his voice sounds uncharacteristically soft. “I will begin working on it.”

“How long? How long does she have?”

It’s –

“Cassi?”

The rest of Kay’s response is cut off by the sheer relief crossing over Cassian’s face, turning his attention away from the droid. “Jyn,” he gasps. “You’re back – thank the stars. Are you – can I touch you?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, reaching out for him. “M’sorry.”

He engulfs her in a careful hug, hands rubbing across the expanse of her back, kissing her sweaty hair over and over. “We all have our demons. I’ve told you that you don’t have anything to be sorry for when this happens, _quierda_.”

“I don’t have any demons,” Kay remarks. When they glance up at him, confusion furrowing their brows, he adds, “You said ‘we all have our demons,’ Cassian. I heard you. ‘We all have our demons.’ Well, I _don’t_.”

“I’ll show you demons,” Jyn mutters.

His head swivels to face her, whirring as he processes – _something_. “You are remarkably resilient for someone so small, Jyn Erso,” he tells her. “Most sentients would not have survived this.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to pick through his words and find a hidden jab. Eventually, she nods, choosing to take it as a compliment – but there’s no way in hell she’s going to thank him for it.

“Hey,” Cassian says, leaning back to look her in the eye. “We found some stims along with the medical supplies. Kay says you’ll feel better if you use some.” He brushes her hair back from her forehead. “Would you be up for that?”

She looks at him warily, face blanching. The typical hyper adrenaline stim (at least, the ones she’s seen) usually come as injections. “I. . .can’t do another needle right now.”

He shakes his head. “They’re pills. I know it’s not ideal. . .they’ll take longer to kick in, but it should help. They _will_ help.”

She hears what goes unspoken. _We need something to keep you alive until we get back to base. We don’t know what the poison is. We don’t know how to fix you. We’re running out of options_.

Together, they manage to get her upright. Once she’s in place, she leans heavily on the bulkhead, panting and struggling to catch her breath. It’s harder than normal to breathe but it doesn’t seem life-threatening yet; it’s not a side-effect she plans on mentioning to Cassian until it’s actively hindering her survival.

The dark circles under his eyes and the worry lines etched into his forehead tell her how hard he’s taking this. She watches as he sits next to her, legs spread and elbows balanced on his knees, postured akin to someone who’s already been defeated. His suit jacket has long since been removed, the sleeves of his dress shirt pushed up to his elbows. It’s clear that the mission has long been forgotten – now, his only priority is Jyn.

It doesn’t – it doesn’t sit well with her. As much as she appreciates the care and affection he’s putting forth in patching her back up, she’s not worth it. The Alliance needs the supplies and intel that Birhil can potentially provide them with; he should be out at the ball, possibly securing the meeting they so desperately need. The three of them huddled here together, in pain and sick with worry – it isn’t right.

 _She’s_ the one holding him back.

In this position, the wound on her back stretches uncomfortably, pulling at the edges of the cut. However, the bacta patch has helped tremendously. The fire she’d endured earlier has shrunk to a dull ache, even if it feels as if her muscles have atrophied and her entire body is one giant bruise. The pain is easy to push to the back of her mind, and once she takes the pills, she’ll be mobile without too much difficulty – and then they can finally get the mission up and running again.

Cassian has to help her drink, her hands so shaky that she can barely hold the water without spilling it. After she manages to choke down the pills, she keeps it on her lap in case she needs it, fiddling with the cap absently.

It’s irrational to expect the stims to kick in right away – as Cassian said, she’s going to need to wait about a half hour before they get into her bloodstream and begin to work. It seems like just enough time for them to slap together a makeshift plan to salvage the op.

“So,” she starts all too casually, resting her head against wall once again, the cool durasteel feeling fantastic against her fevered skin, “what now?”

He shoots her a pointed glance (which he seems to be doing a lot lately), shaking his head as if he knows exactly what she’s doing. “Kay’s working on figuring out what you’ve been dosed with.”

“Still?” she asks. “It’s taking him awhile. Maybe he’s broken.”

“If there’s some sort of antidote here on Coruscant, then we’re going to get it,” he continues as if she hasn’t spoken, though he does have to fight down a smile while he does it. “If not, we’re going back to Hoth. The med-team. . .” he runs a hand through his hair. “They’ll take care of you.”

“And the mission?”

“What about it?”

Jyn frowns. “What do you mean, ‘ _what about it?_ ’”

“Things have _changed_ , Jyn,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not about the mission anymore – it’s about making sure you’re safe.”

“But – “

“We aren’t arguing about this, Jyn!” he shouts, the stress and worry finally burning up to a tipping point inside of him. He stands up, paces a few feet away from her. “The mission is _over._  We’re _done_. And as soon as we figure out what’s going on with you, we’re leaving.”

She tips her head backwards, closes her eyes, and hears what goes unspoken. Would Corporal Hendricks have put them in the same position? She can’t help but wonder if Cassian would prefer her presence here instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor jyn's really been put through the ringer here! 
> 
> also, if you haven't noticed, i've upped the chapter count for this work. this one ended up being a bit too long so i chopped a part off and added it to the next.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me awhile to get this written bc i started school again and have been super busy. buTTTTT i think this is the longest chapter yet, so enjoy!

Under specific and very detailed (almost _threatening_ ) orders to rest but not fall asleep, Jyn chooses to pass the time by reading a raunchy holonovel she’d downloaded on Cassian’s datapad a couple weeks ago. Originally, she’d planned on reciting it dramatically in front of him, hoping to shock a couple of emotions from his normally stoic face, but he’d slipped away a couple minutes ago, claiming his presence would only make it more difficult for her to rest.

Too bad they’ve both found that they sleep better _together._

At that comment, she’d snorted and rolled her eyes. If anything, having him by her side would actually _increase_ the rate in which she healed, but if he doesn’t want to hang around when she’s being a burden, then he doesn’t have to. She’s not sure she would either.

There’s one upside to this situation: the lack of Cassian come hand-in-hand with the lack of K-2SO as well. While the droid has grown on her considerably since Scarif (not that she’d ever say that out-loud and would deny it when asked), his constant remarks and statistics about her condition had been beginning to stress her out. It’s not the first time in her life that she’s been _this_ close to death, but for some reason, it feels different.

In the years before her imprisonment, she hadn’t care much about her life. Survival was the goal, but if she didn’t achieve it, what was the harm in that? This line of thinking, though short in its existence, had led to a multitude of self-destructing habits. Turning to drugs, for example, had been a welcome escape from all of the pain in her life. At sixteen and recently abandoned, she’d needed work and some sort of escape to prevent a downward spiral. Spice gave her both – ‘course, that had left her with a whole new set of problems involving addiction and being forced to deal until she’d paid off her debts.

Point being, she hadn’t cared whether she lived or died, making her careless. Eventually, as she grew older, these habits and thoughts slowly began to disappear, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t ever there. Looking back, she’s confident now that if she’d been arrested and taken to Wobani before the age of twenty, she wouldn’t have survived a single month there, let alone the six she’d endured before rescue. 

On Scarif, she’d had Cassian to comfort her, holding her upright as they’d waited for the Death Star’s beam to wash over them. They’d been together, and she’d been. . .not content, but accepting of her fate. She’d avenged her father, gotten her revenge against Krennic; for the first time in her life, she’d felt truly and deeply satisfied. But she hadn’t wanted to die; it felt like she had been given a second chance, an opportunity to start over. It didn’t matter what she chose to do – stay with the Rebellion or go off on her own again – her life, her way of thinking, her attitude: it would be different.

And then they lived.

After that, Cassian had asked her to stay and she had. It hadn’t been much of a decision, especially with their earlier conversation playing over in her head. He’d welcomed her home, to _his_ home, becoming one of the first people in her life to give her such a kindness. With that, she’d plunged headfirst into the Rebel Alliance, joining up with the Pathfinders and the occasional mission with Cassian and Kaytoo. Though she believed in the cause, it wasn’t to the extent that he did; her reasoning for sticking around was very clear to everyone that knew her – the main reason she was doing it was just for _him_.

It took Cassian awhile to realize that.

Once he did, he’d argued with her. Told her that she shouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be, told her she shouldn’t make her decisions based on him, not just for him. That he didn’t want to be the thing tying her down, making her unhappy. She’d listened to all that with a straight face and solemn eyes, and once he shouted himself hoarse, she pulled him down by the collar of his jacket and kissed him square in the mouth. 

And that had been the beginning of their burgeoning relationship, only a few weeks old. In the time since then, they’d fucked, kissed, slept in the same bed. But what Jyn struggles with now is the intimacy aspect of it all. She’s close with Cassian, but that’s what makes her uncomfortable. Even earlier, when he had worried himself into a frenzy, she’d been unsure how to reply. Clearly, making a joke of the situation wasn’t what he’d been looking for.

How is she supposed to do this? Have an open, honest relationship when she’s got too many problems to count? Cassian assures her time and time again that this isn’t an issue, that he has his own shit to deal with, but she just – can’t believe him. Why would _anyone_ want to be with her, someone with miles and miles of baggage? It’s not something she can make sense of in her mind.

While she’s tried to better herself in the past, she always falls back into her old ways. Opens up to him only to push him away seconds later, tries to articulate her thoughts into words only to fall silent with her throat dried up. Now, she doesn’t even bother; it’s clear that she’s not good enough, not yet, and she’s just waiting for Cassian to realize this. No matter how desperately she tries to hold onto him, good things like this cannot last. She’ll do her best to the very end, love him as much as she can, as much as he lets her, but it _will_ have an end. That, she knows, is for certain.

“Jyn? Jyn, are you there?”

His voice startles her out of her thoughts and memories, dragging her up out of what’s been drowning her and into the present. Suddenly, Cassian kneels in front of her, pressing his hands to her cheeks, her brow, her forehead, a panicked gleam in his eye. “Jyn?”

“What?” she asks bitingly. Now that she’s been brought back to reality, she becomes aware of the pain in her lower back, the dull flame radiating up and down her body. “I’m right here, Cassian.”

“I thought – ” he lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back on his heels before pushing himself to his feet. There’s tension in how he holds himself, she notes, his back looking stiffer than usual. As much as she wants to go to him, to take care of him, she stays put, knowing that she can’t in her current condition. “You were so still. I thought you’d fallen into a coma or were paralyzed or. . .”

And with that, he’s back to the stoic officer he normally is, hiding the worry in his eyes with a practiced air. “It doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, speech morphing back into its usual coolness. “I wanted to let you know that Kay’s found a medcenter that might have something to stabilize you for a little longer as we work to synthesize an antidote.” 

“Where is it?”

“Hm?”

“The medcenter,” she questions dryly. “Where is it? What level?”

She’d spent time on Coruscant after Saw had abandoned her. It had been one of the planets she’d found herself stuck on for a couple of months, saving up the credits to get herself a ticket off of it. The lower you go, the more seedy the city becomes. There’s a sinking feeling in her chest that tells her he won’t be going anywhere near Level 5127, the uppermost one.

No, this “miracle” treatment is likely being sold by a vendor who claims results and is actually selling an illegal drug. Cassian’s smart, knows when he’s being cheated, but there’s a very good chance that whatever he’s looking for might actually be a bag of spice posing as an antidote.

“Does it matter?” he asks, waving her off, and that only confirms her fears. “I’m going, either way.”

“Of course it matters!” she exclaims. “How do you know it’s legitimate?”

“I – we don’t, but – “

There it is. He could be risking his life for _nothing_ , searching for a medcenter that might not even exist. She knows he’s not stupid, so what she doesn’t understand is why he’s not cutting his losses and heading back to Hoth immediately. The longer they stay on this planet, the more dangerous it becomes for all of them.

( _if corporal hendricks had been in jyn’s place, he would have left already. he wouldn’t be doing this._ )

She raises a brow. “But?”

“But I’m leaving to go get it.”

“Now?”

“Of course right now!” he very nearly explodes, breaking his calm for a split second. “You don’t have days, Jyn! At the most, you have _hours_. With this, we’ll be able to make an antidote and get you to Hoth before you – ”

“Before I die,” she finishes for him bitterly once it’s clear he won’t be able to complete his sentence himself. “Yeah, I got that. Loud and clear, Cass." 

He flinches, and she curses herself, but doesn’t say anymore, just lets the heavy, tension-filled silence suffocate them as she wonders why the hell she can’t do anything right.

“I’ll be on my way, then. Kaytoo will stay with you to make sure – ”

At that, her head snaps up, stomach churning for reasons that have nothing to do with the poison currently creeping through her veins. “Kay’s not going with you?”

He levels her with a look, repeating back the same words that she’s told him hundreds of times. “I can take care of myself, Jyn.”

“I _know_ you can, it’s just – “ she cuts herself off sharply, biting her lip. “It’s not safe out there. What if whoever did this to me is looking for you? They clearly would have seen us together at the ball.”  

Another thought comes to her. “What if it was another rebel who didn’t know about their mission?”

For all they know, there could be another operation running side by side their own. She hadn’t read the mission report as closely as Cassian had; if there are other operatives on the planet, surely there would be a note detailing it.

What she doesn’t know is how an agent could mess up so badly and stab one of their own. 

“If it was, it’s not one of the Alliance’s,” he replies, shaking his head. “We’re the only ones authorized for a mission in this sector of Coruscant.” 

“What about a member of a rebel cell?” she presses. 

“Doubt it. Birhil’s ball was a high-profile event, and the odds of a small rebellion here with the technology and information that the Alliance has is slim. It would be near impossible for them to have already fabricated an identity that would have a chance of being invited.”

 _I could have done it_ , she thinks sourly. With Saw, she’d certainly forged more difficult documents than a party invitation. However, she chooses to keep her mouth shut on the matter, knowing that he would likely think of another excuse as to why it isn’t likely.

Slightly irritated that he’s shooting down all of her plausible possibilities (and feeling slightly as if he’s doing it on purpose to point out her inadequacies), she grouches, “So what do _you_ think, then?”

_(if she had been thinking clearly, she would have seen how his worry for her clouds his judgement, how it makes rationality disappear entirely and minimizes his entire focus on her._

_he doesn’t care about how it happened or who stabbed her. not now. all he cares about is her survival.)_

“This might have been an accident,” he offers up, though she can see right through him, knows he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. “There’s no point in rushing to conclusions.”

“No point in ignoring the truth, either,” she counters. “Even if I _wasn’t_ the intended target, there’s still someone out there with a poison covered vibroblade. If you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. . .” she swallows the lump in her throat, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Cassian. Not for me.”

The chances of him making it out of this trip unscathed are slim, and they’re even worse when Kay is factored out of the equation. She can’t wrap her head around the idea of Cassian putting himself before her – if they leave for Hoth now, she’s got a decent chance of surviving. Why risk himself to try to improve her odds? It might not even work, for Sith’s sake!

It just doesn’t make _sense_.

In a split-second, Cassian’s faces changes to anger. “Don’t you _dare_ say that,” he snarls, taking a step forward. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that, Jyn, like you don’t mean _anything_ – ”  

She can only stare, wide-eyed, wondering where the hell this outburst has come from. She knows that he cares about her, but this makes her think that there’s something more to his feelings than she’d originally anticipated. No, underneath the anger and frustration, she can see another emotion over his face. 

And while she doesn’t know love, hasn’t known it in a long time, she thinks it looks a lot like that. It looks like love.

Quick to explain herself, to backtrack, she starts, “Cassian, I – ”

“No,” he cuts her off, eyes flashing, “don’t start. I don’t want to hear it. I’m. . .” he runs a hand through his hair, looking more tired and worn-out than she’s seen him in a long time. “I’m going to get the treatment. You and Kaytoo going to stay here. That’s it, Jyn. Don’t try to argue with me.”

Mollified, she nods sharply, biting her lip. As soon as Cassian leaves the room, she settles back against the bolt head and exhales sharply, hating the tears that prick her eyes and the sudden wave of exhaustion that threatens to pull her under. She _knows_ she’s right, knows that it’s dangerous for him to go out by himself, and yet she feels as if _she’s_ in the wrong.  

Arguments are not uncommon between them. Even before they’d started their relationship, there had been disagreements – Jyn thinking he’d been too callous and unfeeling, Cassian thinking she’d been too impulsive and reckless.

She supposes that this isn’t any different than what they’ve gone through in the past, but – but it doesn’t _feel_ familiar.

Before she can dwell long on those thoughts, Kaytoo clomps into the room, effectively ending all chances she had to rest peacefully and quietly. “Jyn Erso,” he says blandly. “I see that you are awake. How unfortunate.”

“K-2SO,” she mocks, parroting the same tone of voice. Even when dying, she can always muster up enough energy to antagonize the droid. “I see that you are my babysitter. How unfortunate.”

“Cassian told me I have to,” he sniffs, repeating the same line he had after pledging his allegiance to the Scarif mission. “If I had a choice, I would be with him. Watching you is boring.”

“You and me both, mate,” she mutters.

“Cassian needs my help more than you do. I have run the calculations and there is only an eighteen percent chance you will die in his absence. There is no reason for me to be here.”

Wait.

As much as Jyn hates to admit it, he’s  _right._

If her odds are that good, why doesn’t she just go after him? A plan’s already forming in her mind – if she could find Cassian and show him that she’s both fine and capable of completing the mission, he wouldn’t have to risk himself in getting the stabilizing treatment for her. If she could somehow sneak an extra dose of the adrenaline, she should be good for an hour or so. Cassian hadn’t left very long ago; the quicker she could sneak away, the quicker she could find him and get back to resting.

All she has to do is get rid of her overbearing droid chaperone.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” she says abruptly, cutting off his rant mid-speech.

His head swivels toward her, looking suspicious. “You’re supposed to be resting. Physical activity will only exacerbate your condition.”

“Sorry, did you want me to piss on the floor, then?”

“You wouldn’t.” 

“I absolutely would,” Jyn insists, her lips twitching but otherwise keeping her mouth in a flat line. “You _know_ I would, Kay.”  

He stares at her for a few seconds as if gauging her sincerity, then sighs. “Fine. But if you fall on the floor, I’m not going to help you.”

With that, she pushes off the bunk in one swift movement, then immediately regrets the quick action. Her head spins, wound on her back pulling painfully. She has to hold out her arms to steady herself, gritting her teeth against the nausea rising up in her throat. _Steady, steady._

“I told you so,” Kay intones. A second later, she feels him practically holding her up, cold metal biting into her overheated skin. “You shouldn’t be standing.”

She wrenches her arm out of his grip despite how difficult it gets without his support. “I’m fine,” she snarls out, jaw clenching. With one step at a time, she begins to move forward, not letting him help her. The refresher is only a couple feet away, but _stars_ , she’s going to need more of those pill if she wants to successfully go after Cassian.  “And I thought you said you were going to let me fall.”

With his unfairly long legs, the droid keeps pace with her easily. “I said ‘if you fall on the floor, I’m not going to help you,’” he corrects, repeating his exact phrasing from earlier. She rolls her eyes at that. “Besides, the odds of hurting yourself increase every minute you spend out of bed. Cassian told me I had to watch you, and if you injure yourself further, then he will be angry with me.”

Now there’s something she doesn’t doubt. Miserable with the pain and regretting this part of her plan, she snarks, “Maybe I should lay on the ground until he gets back to see if I get lucky and he deprograms you.”

“Cassian would _not_ – “

As soon as she gets to the ‘fresher, she steps inside and closes the door on his face, sagging against the wall when she’s alone. There’s a thin sheen of sweat across her forehead and her muscles are taxed with the exertion it has taken her to get here. If she can’t find the pills, she’s not going to make it past Kaytoo and out the door.

Lurching forward with the momentum from pushing back against the wall, Jyn manages to make it to the sink, reaching up toward the cabinet hanging above it. Her movements are lurching, clumsy, and she almost takes down the entire structure when she slips and uses it to catch her fall.

Flinging the doors open, she runs her shaky fingers over the bottles inside with almost a manic energy, eyes darting left to right, left to right. Vaguely, she remembers the type of pills Cassian had handed her, his warm hands cupping her cheek, helping her hold up the glass of water. . .

She shakes her head, a motion that only makes it pound more feverently. Finally, her eyes land on a pill bottle that she vaguely recognizes, orange plastic with small, white pills inside. With a great amount of effort, she unscrews the top and tosses it to the side, fingers sliding in and pulling out three pills. Furtively, she glances toward the door, half-expecting Kay to barge in on her, then swallows the medicine dry.

She shudders, throat working oddly as she resists the urge to cough them back up. The cabinet doors hang open, and once she places the bottle back in place, she closes them, effectively covering up her earlier actions. After a beat taken to recollect herself, she flushes the empty toilet and flips on the sink, splashing a bit of water on her face.

 _Breathe. Stay steady._  

It’ll take about twenty or thirty minutes for the pills to kick in. In that amount of time, she’ll have to convince Kay that she doesn’t need him hovering over her shoulder so she can sneak out of the ship unnoticed.

“That took you awhile,” he remarks once she leaves the ‘fresher, all six feet looming over her.

She glares, pushing past him and starting her slow trek back to her cot. “Do you really want to know the details?”

A beat. Then, petulant, _“No.”_

As soon as she sinks back onto the bunk, her body relaxes almost immediately. She sags against the bulkhead, careful to keep her weight off of the wound on her back. An awkward beat of silence later – ”Are you going to watch me sleep? Don’t you have anything better to do?" 

“I don’t trust you not to try anything,” he says.

“You saw how long it took me to get to the ‘fresher,” she retorts flippantly. “I won’t be able to get very far without you noticing.”

He seems to consider this for a moment, then stomps off to go do something else.

A minute goes by. Then another. Once she’s sure that he’s not going to come back and check on her immediately, she pushes herself out of bed and onto the durasteel floor. Without her heels from the evening before, her bare feet make little sound as she moves forward. By the time she changes out of this ridiculous dress – one that’s still unzipped around her neck and falling off of her shoulders – the pills should be in her system already and she’ll be good to go. 

There’s a set of spare clothes in her and Cassian’s bunk. It takes her an embarrassingly long time to get there, but she manages; letting the dress fall to the ground around her feet, she stretches up on her toes to grab a pair of fatigues. While the cotton is much softer against her skin, every time the fabric touches the bacta patch on her back flashes of pain emanates up her spine. It’s even harder to get her boots on without bending over; after a few minutes of struggling, she ends up shoving her feet in there, figuring that they’ll eventually sink to a proper position. 

Though this hadn’t been physical taxing, by the end of changing her clothes, Jyn is breathing hard. Her skin is covered in sweat, and she has to rest her weight against the wall to stay standing. Thoughts of Cassian are the only things pushing her forward. She doesn’t know why, but there’s a bad feeling churning in her gut. She’d rather have him alive and yelling at her than dead and silent.

She straightens, breathes out. The pain seems to ebb slightly, and she takes that to mean the pills are beginning to work.

With a newfound burst of energy, a reason for her to continue forward, she leaves the room and almost makes it to the cargo bay before she’s interrupted.

“You are supposed to be resting.”

“And you’re supposed to not be bothering me,” she snaps back, trying to push past him and leave the shuttle. “ _Move_ , Kay.”  

He observes, “You’re going after Cassian.”

“ _Obviously_.”

“The chances of me getting you to rest without a sedative are low.”

“They’re kriffing abysmal. You want me to stay here, then you have to knock me out.”

The droid tilts his head to the side, considering. “Then I am coming with you.” 

Jyn opens her mouth to argue, then snaps it shut. This is probably the best deal she’s going to get out of him, and she has a hunch that she might need his help if the adrenaline pills don’t do their job.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

The cool outside air feels heavenly as it breezes through her hair. She pauses, takes a moment to breathe and eliminate her fearful thoughts. She’s going to find him and get him safely back to the ship, her own health and safety be damned.

It doesn’t take long for Kay to get impatient.

“Well,” Kay says once they’ve been walking for about two minutes, their ship no longer in view behind them. “I don’t see him, Jyn Erso. Time to go back.”

She grinds her teeth, keeping her gaze forward and chin up high. She makes no move to stop walking, continuing on their path. “We’ve barely–looked,” she manages, panting slightly. “Give me–five more minutes–at the very least.”

“The extra dose of adrenaline is the only thing keeping you upright,” he notes, falling into step beside her. “Once it wears off, I’ll have to drag your unconscious body back to the shuttle. There is a ninety-three percent chance we won’t find Cassian before that happens.” 

“So carry me back to the shuttle, then,” she grouches, having absolutely no intention of collapsing despite the chances stacked against her. “Won’t be _that_ hard, will it?”

“Based on your body weight and my strength, it will not be any trouble. However, that does not mean – ”

Jyn stumbles, tripping over the uneven streets and falls face-first in the ground. Her training and instincts are the only things that keep her from hurting herself more; right before impact, she manages to throw her arms out in front of her, slamming hard on her forearms and elbows. _“Psfassk!”_  

Kay glowers down at her. “Time to go back.”

This time, she doesn’t argue. When Kay reaches down to help her up, she can feel the strength leaving her body, and she sags in his hold, forcing herself to walk. It becomes a mantra in her head, lulling her into a sort of trance: _lift, forward, down. lift, forward, down._

_Lift. Forward._

_Down –_

The body – _Cassian’s body_ – leaning up against the door of the cargo bay snaps her out of it. Digging deep down into herself, she finds the energy to break free of Kay and rush forward, a strangled cry breaking its way out of her throat.

She’d known this would happen, he shouldn’t have gone by himself, he should have taken back-up. His skin is so cold under her hands as she cups his face desperately, knees aching from the hard landing she’d taken to get to his side. “C’mon, Cassi,” she murmurs, voice cracking. “Cassian, come _on_. _Please._ Wake up, you–nerfherder!”

There’s no wound anywhere on his body, no visible blood she can see. At first glance, she has no idea why he’s unconscious, not until Kay says, “I’m detecting a high level of poison in his bloodstream. We need to get him inside.”

Wide-eyed, she barely registers his words in her panic. All she knows is that one second, she’s hugging Cassian’s body to her chest, and the next, it’s being tugged away from her. “Don’t take him–away from me!”  

“He needs help,” the droid insists. “Don’t let your stubbornness be the reason he dies.”

 _Dies_. The word echoes in her brain, over and over. She falls back, arms going limp and settling at her sides, watching with blank eyes as Kay scoops Cassian from her arms and hauls him back into the ship.

He could _die_ from this.

The thought has her throat closing up, back arching as she gasps for air. She’s settled in the same position they’d found Cassian in only seconds earlier, but she’s alive, she’s awake, she can’t – can’t _breathe_ –  

She shifts, hunching over her knees. The change in posture alters her sphere of vision; in her peripherals, something white takes her focus. When she turns, she sees a piece of paper lying where he’d been sitting, dangerously close to blowing away in the wind.

After reading what’s on the note, her heart rises up into her throat.

 

 

 _Looking forward to our meeting tonight, Ms. Sward._  

_Best,_

_Commander Malius Birhil_

 

 

Jyn breathes out. _“Shit.”_


	4. Chapter 4

Jyn’s hands are shaking.

It has to be because of the poison; she can’t remember the last time her body shook with anticipation or nerves. She’s not worried – no, not at all – but her stomach churns every time she thinks of Cassian laying on the bunk she’d occupied only minutes before with Kay hovering over him, looking (for the first time since she’s known him) uncertain.

She’s not nervous.

Pulling her jacket tighter around her body, she looks up at the mansion with an unhidden bitterness. The vibroblade she’d shoved into her book thunks against her calf with each movement, but it’s a familiar and comforting weight – just as her blaster presses the small of her back. At least this time she’ll be entering the building

The wind whips the sweat-soaked hair off of her forehead, the chill of the air not enough to permeate the heat of the fever rising up off her skin. The adrenaline pills she’d taken twenty minutes ago should be able to keep her going for another hour or two, but she needs to be out and back on the ship by the time she crashes.

(or else they all die.)

“I have an appointment with Commander Birhil,” she says flatly, once she traverses the steps up to the front of the building. Her arms are crossed against her chest, fists digging into her ribs. All pretenses of Ellana Sward are gone. Someone poisoned both her and her partner, and Birhil had answers; she can’t find it in herself to pretend to be air-headed and giggly when her – her _Cassian_ is dying a couple blocks away.

Her hands shake. She presses them harder against her skin, hiding.

“Name?” The ‘trooper asks, voice bored, head dipping down slightly when he pulls out his datapad and absently scrolls through it.

“Ellana Sward.”

She certainly doesn’t look like an Imperial socialite, but just when Jyn thinks that he’s going to turn her away, he nods once and opens the door. “Right this way, ma’am.”

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, she follows him into the building, ignoring the way her vision tunnels in and out of darkness. _Breathe. Focus. This is for Cassian._

She trips, stumbles. The stormtrooper reaches out an arm to steady her, and she forgets herself, yanking her arm out of his grip as a snarl of _“don’t touch me”_ works its way out of her mouth, only to hear a “You all right, ma’am?” in return.

“Fine,” she says after a beat, straightening up and wincing at the pain emanating from the small of her back, her blaster digging into the wound there. Even though it’s covered by a bacta patch, it aches as if it’s been touched directly. “I’m fine.”

She’s endured worse – she’s _fine_. It doesn’t matter that there’s poison coursing through her veins, that she could drop dead at any moment without warning; she’s here to fix this mess or die trying. The pain is an afterthought, pushed to the back of her mind. One step at a time, keep moving forward. This isn’t hard. Pain is only an emotion, and emotions can be blocked, can be pushed back, deep inside the cave of her mind.

For Cassian’s sake, though, she hopes he’s still unconscious. As much as she (selfishly) wants him to wake as a sign that he might be okay, this level of suffering isn’t anything she wants him to go through. Kay had said that he’d been dosed with a higher level than she had, which means that he would be feeling everything more intensely than she currently does.

It also means that he has even less time than she does.

Jyn quickens her pace despite the urge to slow down, nearly stepping on the ‘trooper’s heel in her hurry. She doesn’t care if she seems overeager or desperate – her partner’s life is on the line here, and she’s not going to let him – _let him_ –

Stars, she can’t even think the words, let alone say them out loud. 

It’s a few more minutes before they reach their destination, twisting and turning and snaking down unfamiliar hallways. All of her focus goes into keeping herself upright, even though her instincts are screaming at her to map out the layout, to find potential exits. It’s difficult, especially when the floor rises up and melts back down in waves, moving beneath her feet as if it’s alive.

When they reach the door, she thanks the soldier and dismisses him, using Imperial haughtiness and curt words to get what she wants. Once he’s out of her sight, she takes a few breaths to steady herself, then holds up a shaky hand and raps her knuckles on the door.

_Breathe._

It opens, revealing a balding, older man that looks nothing like the pictures given to them in the briefing documents. For a moment, Jyn wonders if she has the wrong room, but when the man begins to tap his foot impatiently at the length of her silence, she pushes forward, nearly stumbling over her words.

This is for Cassian. It doesn’t matter how she feels or how she can barely catch her breath from the nerves zipping through her veins. This is for Cassian. She may have ruined the mission earlier, but she’s going to force it back together with her bare hands, even if it ruins her.

( _it might._ )

“I have an appointment with Commander Birhil,” she repeats, the same words she’d said to get into the mansion. Her throat dries up, and she swallows, feeling as if her voice is lodged stuck. “My name is Ellana Sward. He left a note. . .?”

_He left a note pinned to the almost-corpse of my partner/lover?_

“Of course. We’ve been expecting you,” the man at the door nods, bows his head ever so slightly and steps back to let her into the apartment. “Right this way, Miss Sward.”

She notes the use of “we’ve” and files it away. The man in front of her must not be Birhil, then – maybe a lover, a friend, an employee. Her suspicions are confirmed when he adds, “Would you like something to drink, ma’am? The commander will be back soon, if you don’t mind a wait.”

While she’s hesitant to accept anything from the household of a man that might have something to do with this whole mess, it would be both rude and suspicious not to agree to his offer. “Tea would be lovely,” she replies with a strained smile, and follows a step or two behind when he leads her into the sitting room.

Her hands shake.

Once the man leaves the room, she’s out of the seat she’d been perching on and immediately on the offensive, prowling the contents of the small area. Her eyes scan for exits, possible hidden doors or things that aren’t what they originally seem to be. There’s two entrances that she can see: the door that she’d come in through and a set of windows on the other side of the room. When she checks them, they’re both latched shut with a fine layer of dust on the top the sill. Not used often, then, and doesn’t seem to have locks on the outside. If someone’s going to get in through them from beyond the room, then they’re going to have to break the glass, giving her enough time to escape.

Her focus is drawn next to the possibility of any bugs or security cameras in the room. Nothing of interest on the ceiling, even in the darker corners of the room. On a closer inspection of the bookshelves, she finds two small, black objects that could be listening devices, but she doesn’t touch them, not wanting to leave her fingerprints all over the room. Whose ever they are, Birhil’s or otherwise, she doesn’t need any inquiries or questioning as to what she’d been doing with them later

“The commander has quite a large collection of books, doesn’t he?”

Jyn barely manages to hide her flinch, shoulders stiffening. _Stupid_. She can’t remember the last time she’s let someone sneak up on her like this – she hears Saw’s voice in her head, _“you foolish child, this is how you’re going to get killed, didn’t I train you better? To_ be _better?”_

“Ah, yes,” she says haltingly, turning around to face him with a stiff smile plastered on her face. The momentum of her spin makes her back scream, tugging at the bacta patch and the tightness of her wound. A crack –  _kriff_ . Something warm drips down her back and the pain intenses tenfold. At least her dark clothes will hide the bloodstain. “I didn’t know he had such an interest in,” she turns her head, glances at one of the titles and spouts out the first topic she sees, “ _economics_.”

The man smiles and comes up next to her, setting her cup down on a side-table. “They’re merely for show,” he replies, running his finger over the spines and grimacing disgustedly at the dust that strains his finger before wiping it on his pants. “I would be surprised if that idiot even knew how to read.”

That catches her off-guard. Surely she’s heard him wrong – she doesn’t even know who this man is, but he’s clearly close to the commander if he’s allowed to walk his apartments freely. Her fingers twitch, glancing off the blaster shoved in the waistband of her trousers. “Excuse me?”

“Please, Miss Sward,” he says, motioning to the chair in front of them. “Have a seat. You look like you could need one.”

Her head spins, but Jyn’ll be damned if she takes orders from this man before she figures out what the hell is going on and which side he supports. “You must be close to the commander, if you’re speaking of him like that,” she observes carefully, not moving from where she’s standing.

“I must insist that you take a seat, ma’am. I won’t ask twice.” There’s something in his eyes that has her moving to the couch, sitting on the edge of it, perching like a bird. One of her hands remains in her lap while the other inches toward her side, ready to grab her weapon if necessary. “Thank you. Now we can finally begin.”

He moves to sit across from her, and Jyn watches him warily as he takes a sip from his own cup of tea. “And Commander Birhil. . .?”

“He won’t be joining us.”

The realization hits her. “You’re the one who sent the note.” Her fingers curl inward, nails cutting into her palm with a white-knuckled grip. _You’re the one who poisoned Cassian._

And while she has no proof of who attacked her, he’s immediately a target of her suspicion. She hadn’t stuck around on the ship long enough for Kay to confirm that what’s in Cassian’s system is the same drug that’s in hers, but their symptoms are similar enough where it isn’t a big jump in logic to assume that.

_Breathe, Jyn._

Her anger runs hot and the wound on her back burns like it’s on fire and the heat reminds her of the blast on Scarif, and in this moment where she so caught off guard with what’s going on, she feels herself being transported back on that beach, holding Cassian to her chest and hoping that it’ll all be over soon, and she wonders if she’s going to have to do that again, especially if she can’t find the antidote, if she’s going to have to hold Cassian and watch as he dies – 

Her hands shake.

“You seem distressed, Miss Sward,” the man’s voice cuts in through the haze. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t call you that anymore, hmm? I’m afraid I don’t know your real name, however. You rebels are horribly secretive.”

“My name,” she grits out, “is Ellana Sward. Who the hell are you?”

He exhales a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like she’s this great annoyance, when he’s the one who’s gone to the trouble of getting her here in the first place. “Very well, if you must be _difficult_ – ”

“Get on with it, old man,” Jyn snarls. The only reason she hasn’t shot him in the face yet is because he has answers she needs; once she gets them, anything goes. She doesn’t care if it starts a war – she’s fucked up this mission beyond repair at this point, so what’s another dead body to take care of?

“My name is Kier Dysar,” he says with an amused look in his eye, seemingly unbothered with Jyn’s threats and poisonous gaze. That only pisses her off further, but she keeps her displeasure off of his face, focusing in on his words, on the pain in her back. “As you may of guessed, I work for the commander. Rather – I work _as_ the commander.”

“Elaborate,” she says flatly.

“Birhil’s an idiot,” his tone is brisk, off-hand. The words flow out of his mouth as easily as if he’s said them a hundred times alone. “The only reason he’s a commander is because his father’s high up in the Empire and pulled some strings to give him power. He spends all his time drinking and partying; last night’s festivities were due entirely to him wanting to whore himself out.”

“So –  _what?_ ” she asks, irritation coloring her voice.

“Come on, Miss Sward. Make a guess at what’s going on here. I know you’re smarter than you look.”

She wants to shoot back an answer to that, that he doesn’t know bantha fodder about her, but the realization of what’s going on comes to mind almost simultaneously. “You’re pulling the strings here. You do everything and let him take the credit for it.”

“Oh, well done. Took you a little longer than I’d thought, but impressive nonetheless.”

Immediately, Jyn shoots to her feet, wobbly yet firm, and whips out the blaster from her waistband. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you sit,” she snarls. “I could knock out one of the leaders in the Empire and no one would even know I did it.”

Dysar seems entirely nonplussed by the weapon in his face, which only makes her press the cold steel harder against his forehead. “Because then your partner will most certainly die. You might have a chance without the antidote, but he doesn’t, not with how much poison is in his system.”

_Cassian._

All of the air leaves her body. Her posture sags, arm holding up the weapon dipping slightly, but she doesn’t lower it entirely and doesn’t take a seat, either. She closes her eyes for a second, berating herself – she’d forgotten him entirely in the opportunity to get revenge against this Imperial. Guilt threatens to eat her alive, and she’s so caught up in the worry for both herself and him that she nearly misses Dysar’s next words.

“Do sit down, Miss Sward, before you pass out. I’m not a cruel man. I’d like to make a deal.”

She does as he says, laying her blaster across her lap and eyeing him warily. “Why? What’s the point? What’s stopping _you_ from killing me? Stars, you’ve already kriffing _poisoned_ me – why make a deal when you’re the one with all the power here?”

“I gain very little,” he replies, “but it’s enough for me to take all of the steps necessary to get you here. You’ll soon see that I am a very generous man if need be.”

“You poisoned us!” she repeats indignantly.

He tilts his head to the side, examining her, horribly condescending and ignores her outburst. “Because I wanted to see your true colors,” he says finally. “I knew you were a rebel the second you walked into that ballroom. The man with you, not so much – but, you, Miss Sward, looked quite out of place. Especially with that scarf hiding the scars on your back.”

She closes her eyes, the weight of her failures hitting her full force. This whole situation is her fault. She’d thought that getting poisoned in the first place had been what ruined the mission, but it goes deeper than that. The only reason Cassian’s currently dying on a ship a few miles away is because she couldn’t pass as an Imperial.

(At any other time, she would take that as a compliment, but not with his life on the line.)

The last time she’d donned Imperial garb, it had been on Scarif. Cassian and Kay had done most of the work in the tower while she played the part of the stoic soldier, a mask covering her facial expressions. It’s not too far from what she’d usually done, how she lived. It had been easy to pose as a death trooper, as a soldier when all she knows how to do is fight.

At the ball, with her body dressed up and made to look like someone of high society, someone who wasn’t her, who she’d _never_ be, had been out of her league. Ellana Sward has the perfect life: an attractive and wealthy husband, enough money to never have worried about having an empty stomach or not having a roof to sleep under, not enough brains to worry about the horrors of the war (not like she’s seen them first hand). No calluses, no scars, no nightmares.

She isn’t cut out for intelligence work; there’s a reason she works with the Pathfinders and rarely deviates from their missions. Ellana is the exact opposite of who she is, and that’s not something she can easily portray with the life that she’s had. The other aliases she’s adopted – Liana and Tanith and Kestrel – had all been Jyn Erso with a different name.

“I have to admit, I was quite surprised it took you this long to visit me. After your boy fixed you up, I expected to hear you banging on my door an hour later. I thought it was because you hadn’t put the clues together, that it had been Birhil who poisoned you and through extension, _me_ , but that’s not the whole truth, is it? No, you came once it was your partner who was one dying – even though I did have to leave a note to push you along.”

“Why does that matter, who I’m here for?” she rasps, confused.

“Like I said. I wanted to see your true character. The Empire doesn’t give a shit about anyone except for themselves. If you were an Imperial, I doubt we’d even be having this conversation. This leads me to be. . .sympathetic to the rebel cause. Your selflessness is an admirable quality.”

She blinks, processing the information. The whole point of the operation had been to gauge whether or not Birhil would be willing to support the Alliance. If Dysar is saying what she thinks he’s saying, then maybe the mission isn’t as kriffed as she’d thought it to be.

“Even though I now know you had no idea I was the one who poisoned you until I gave you a nudge in my direction, I still believe that you wouldn’t have come before now. Am I correct?”

A pause, then Jyn gives a curt nod. She’d wasted breath back on the ship trying to return to Hoth despite her injuries. _Yet_ – ”My partner would have.”

“Then I’d be having a similar conversation with him, I suspect,” he says with a smile. “Though I would perhaps not offer him the same deal as I am going to you unless the roles were completely reversed, as he wouldn’t be endangering his life to the same degree.”

Enough talking in circles. She doesn’t have time for this, especially not when the adrenaline could leave her body at any second now. What are you saying?” she shoots back. “You’ll help the Alliance because I came here to save my partner instead of myself?”

“Like I said, Miss Sward,” and oh, how Jyn wants to punch him in the face, to knock some teeth out and get him to _stop kriffing calling her that_ , “I want to offer you a deal. A choice, really – either way, you’ll get something out of it.”

From his pocket, he draws out a small, unassuming vial of liquid and sets it on the table between them. Then, he places a folded-up piece of paper on the other side and looks up at her. “Your choices.”

“What are they?”

“This is a vial of the antidote for the poison running through you and your partner’s veins. It should be enough to save him, though with the high quantity already in his system for this long of a time, I can’t be certain.” After setting it back down carefully, he motions to the paper. “And this is recipe for it. You pick this option, you can take as many vials of the antidote as you’d like along with it.”

The more preferable option is clear, but he’s said nothing about support for the Alliance. “And what about – ”

“I’m getting there, my dear. I will sign off on an order for resources to be sent to specific caches around the galaxy and give you the information for it. However, that offer only comes with option one.”

This isn’t just a matter of medicine and supplies – it’s of _lives_. Either the Alliance lives and Cassian maybe survives but she dies, or Cassian and her survive and the cause is hurt because of it.

She could shoot him and take the antidote as well as forging his signature on whatever documents needed, but what she suspects he’s promising is _continued_ support – something he won’t be able to do if he’s dead. Just like everyone else, Dysar wants to feel like he matters and that there are people sticking their necks out for him, and he thinks he can get that by joining Rebellion.

She doesn’t know how much truth is in that sentiment, but hell if she’s going to correct him.

Jyn swallows down a lump in her throat. Is her life worth that of millions throughout the galaxy? Is Cassian’s? What he’s offering the Rebellion would only improve their chances of winning the war.

Maybe she has a chance of salvaging this mission after all.

“Send the information about the caches to our ship. We won’t depart until we get it.”

Jyn stands, grabs the single vial, and leaves without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnndddd 30 years later i've updated. thank u all so much for being patient during the wait, it means the world to me <3
> 
> you might have noticed i added more chapters. i split up the last chapter into two parts to make it more ~dramatic~. chapter 5 and 7 will be short, around 2000 words each if i had to guess, with a short 100 ish so words chapter 6 in the middle. 5 will be uploaded alone and 6 and 7 will be uploaded together.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s a struggle to keep herself from sprinting back to the shuttle, but Jyn keeps a harsh rein on her impulses. If she stumbles, if she gets caught by a suspicious ‘trooper wondering why an Imperial wife is sprinting through the streets of Coruscant, then it’s over for her. She doesn’t have much time left, especially now that the adrenaline is wearing off, and she can’t afford to let anything stop her from getting Cassian the antidote he needs.

It’s what he needs. Not her. She’ll be fine. She increases her pace, walking so fast she nearly breaks out into a jog. Her speed is almost as if to prove a point – because she’s up and mobile, she’ll be fine. As far as she knows, Cassian isn’t doing much moving – therefore, he needs the antidote more than she does. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been dosed with the same thing and she only has one miracle cure. She’ll be fine.

The fear of death pools in the bottom of her stomach. For the first time since Lah’mu, she feels a reason to _live_. She never would have thought it, but she’s happy with what she’s doing for the Rebellion. Originally, she’d stayed only for Cassian, but she’s found her place within the rebel ranks. The work she’s doing is good; though not too different than what she’d done with Saw, it feels better morally. For some reason, what she does feels like she’s atoning for the crimes of her past – by saving a group of innocents she would have ignored in the past, for example, it helps ease the pain of the other lives she’s ruined.

She doesn’t want to die, not when there’s so much she can still do for this galaxy.

And Cassian. . .stars, if she’d had more time with him, Jyn knows she could have loved him. She’s already suspiciously close to it right now, but it’s still too early in their relationship for her to figure out. The two of them, though broken, fit together as if they were made for each other. Romance like this isn’t something she’d thought would ever be attainable for someone like her.

Her death would ruin all these plans, would ruin her future with Cassian and all the potential good she can do for the galaxy.

But she shakes her head as if to get it out of her mind, knowing it’s an irrational thought. She won’t die. She’ll be fine.

_(how many times will she have to tell herself that before she starts to believe it?)_

It’s impossible not to break out in a run once the ship comes into view, and she doesn’t have the control to stop herself. She bursts through the door like a woman possessed, hair plastered down on her forehead with sweat and chest heaving. Kaytoo has the decency to look alarmed at her sudden intrusion, head snapping up from Cassian’s bedside, but she cuts him off before he can speak. “I’ve got it.”

Kay freezes from where he’s standing, circuits whirring. For the first time since she’s met him, he’s completely speechless. “You – you what?”

Jyn doesn’t have time for this nonsense, not when her partner could potentially be dying a few feet away from her. “I got the antidote,” she lurches forward, stumbling to the bunk and kneeling on the floor beside it, nearly crashing to the ground herself. Almost – almost, _almost!_ – fearfully, she asks, “How is he?”

She can’t bring herself to check his pulse or to look and see if his chest is still rising. Kay would have said something already if he’d died while she’d been gone, she tells herself, but he looks so much like a corpse for her to think logically.

His death would break her, likely beyond repair. She doesn’t think about how her death will affect him.

“His condition has not changed,” Kay replies. Jyn flinches, though it’s reassuring to hear that he’s alive. While it’s a good thing he hasn’t gotten any worse, the fact that he’s been unconscious this whole time worries her greatly. A pause before he questions her, mechanical voice stilted and slightly awkward, “You seem to be functioning properly.

“I’m fine,” she replies offhandedly, clearly distracted. It’s not like her to not give him some snark, however, so to keep up pretenses, she adds, “You malfunctioning, Kay? I’m surprised to hear you giving a shit about someone other than Cassian.”

For a second, she doesn’t think that he’s heard her. It’s not unlike Kaytoo to ignore things he’s not interested in, so she chalks her half-assed insult not up to his standards of something to respond to and focuses back on her partner, reaching down to her jacket pocket to draw out the vial with shaky hands.  

And then – ”Unfortunately, I have found myself caring about you as well, Jyn Erso.”

She blinks, not knowing what to say back to that. Color rises up in her cheeks, heating with embarrassment. She cares about the droid too, but that’s not something she’s going to say out loud. To be honest, his admission has practically stunned her into silence. She’s suspected that, on some level, Kaytoo cares about her, but it’s also easy to believe he only deals with her because of how close she is to Cassian.

While that may be true, it seems to be only partially.

Is this what having a real family feels like? She can hardly remember the feeling; it’s been so long since she’s had something like this. Slowly, and completely under her nose, Cassian and Kaytoo and the rest of Rogue One have become irreplaceable to her – and now she doesn’t know what to do with this information.

Thankfully, Kay saves her from having to speak. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he scoffs. “I still like Cassian better.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, pushing Cassian’s hair back from his forehead, needing something to occupy her hands. Her words are short, blunt, a bit stilted – still slightly uncomfortable with his little speech from earlier. “Me too. Glad we’re on the same page. Let’s get back to saving his life.”

She reaches back into her pocket and this time actually grabs the bottle out. “He said it should be enough to save him,” she replies absently, tilting the vial back and forth, letting the light catch the liquid inside. It’s amber-colored, thick and viscous. Looks a bit like honey, or some sort of syrup. “It should be enough. It has to be enough.”

When she moves to open the stopper and pour some into his mouth, Kay reaches out to prevent her from doing so, laying a cautionary hand on her shoulder. “The odds of that not being an antidote are significant.”

 _Kriff_. She hadn’t even thought of that possibility. She’d been so focused on trying to save his life that, in that meeting with Dysar, all of her good sense had left her. She has no way to prove its validity. Her hand stills from where it hovers over Cassian’s mouth, biting down hard on her lip.

“What else are we supposed to do?” she rasps, going over her conversation with Dysar in her mind to look for any inconsistencies. “He’ll die without it. I don’t. . .” _I don’t know what else to do._ “We have to take this risk.”

“With the amount of poison in his system, adding more will only decrease the possibility of survival.” If the droid could sound hesitant, his next words are exactly that, “But you, on the other hand – ”

“ _No,_ ” she interrupts, cutting him off, shaking her head with a bit more desperation than necessary. The motion rattles her brain, makes her dizzy. She doesn’t even know if there’s enough in the bottle for Cassian alone; if she takes some of the antidote just to test it out, then the chance of him dying increases. She _can’t_ let him die. “We’re wasting time just talking about this, Kaytoo!”

Jyn turns to Cassian and leans down, resting her forehead on his arm. Her hands curl into the fabric of his jacket, his blue parka with the fur, wrapped around him like a blanket. “I’m going to save you,” she whispers, voice broken. Her hands are shaking so violently, and she’s unable to tell if it’s from the poison or her own nerves. “I promise you. You’re going to live.”

The safe thing to do, the _strategic_ thing to do, would be to follow Kay’s plan. Take a few drops herself, wait a few minutes, see if there’s any adverse effects. That’s the most rational line of action, but she’s not thinking rationally. The man she loves is lying prone in front of her, and risking his chance of survival is not something she wants to do – 

 _Motherfucker._ She loves him. At that, she huffs out a laugh, shoulders shaking silently with the motion. She can’t believe that it’s only taken this long to figure out; mere hours earlier she’d considered what their relationship could have been if they survived this mess. Now faced with the possibility of his death, it’s suddenly become clear to her.

She loves him.

“I made a deal,” she announces, looking up at Kay with bleary eyes. “A transmission is going to be coming in with information for the Rebellion. As soon as we get it, we can leave.”

“An encrypted message arrived a few minutes before you did,” he replies, “but I’ve been otherwise occupied.”

“Get us out of here, then,” she insists, wiping her free hand over her face. She has to trust that Dysar sent over what he’d promised. The quicker they leave, the sooner they can get back to the Rebellion. While not the greatest quality, the medbay on Hoth is their – _her_ – best chance of survival. “I’ll take care of Cassian. You can calculate the jump to hyperspace by yourself, right?”

Kaytoo scoffs, shooting back his answer with his usual amount of snark – though his voice lacks the heat. “Of _course_ I can. Are you doubting my abilities?”

“Would I do that?” she asks airily.

“Yes.”

He grumbles something underneath his breath, but Jyn’s too focused on the man laying in front of her to try and figure out what insult he’s just uttered. Before he’s even out of the room, she’s uncorking the vial and cupping Cassian’s cheek with her free hand.

“You just have to stay strong for a little longer, love,” she murmurs, heart jolting to a stop when she runs her fingers over his neck and doesn’t feel his pulse for a few seconds. When it jumps weakly underneath her touch, she lets out a bated breath. “I promise that I’m going to save you, all right? Just trust me.”

_(she hopes that she can trust herself.)_

With that, she swallows down the rest of her fear and puts the bottle to his lips. “That’s it,” she soothes, shifting her position so she can tilt his head back and open up his throat. She watches with careful eyes as the liquid drains out of the vial and into his mouth. He coughs weakly, unconsciously trying to shift away from her but she holds tight, whispering nonsense to him until he calms.

The empty bottle falls from her hands. It’s gone. All of it, gone. Force – there’s no chance left for her, but she hopes that it’s enough to save him.

She stands with shaky legs, lurching to the side and almost falling over when the familiar hum of the engine starts up beneath her feet. Carefully, she pulls Cassian’s upper body up and slides herself underneath it, settling his head in her lap so she can run her fingers through his hair.

The adrenaline is starting to wear off, only intensifying the amount of tremors running through her hands. Her back is on fire, pain emanating from the wound outward. Her left hip has gone completely numb – a fact that should bother her but doesn’t; it’s an old injury, one from Scarif that pains her more often than not, and she’s grateful for even the smallest reprieve from the constant aching.

She doesn’t know how long it is when Kaytoo reenters the room nor how long he stands there before announcing his presence. Jyn snaps awake when she hears him, head lurching forward. Her right hand is curled in Cassian’s hair but her left moves to scrub at her eyes blearily.

Fuck, it _hurts_. Is it going to be this painful until the end? As strong as she is, she’s not sure she’s going to be able to bear it, especially if it gets worse as time goes on.

“The ship is on autopilot,” Kay announces haughtily. “I calculated the jump perfectly by myself.”

“You’re a droid,” she says tiredly, not even finding the energy to shift her position despite the uncomfortableness of how she’s sitting. “If you didn’t, I’d be – _ah, kriff_ – concerned.”

Kay tilts his head to the side, eyes flashing. “Cassian’s heartbeat has slowed considerably. It no longer seems like he’s in respiratory distress. His chance of survival has increased by 5.4% in the past ten minutes.”

An untrusting person at heart, the relief of that statement makes her limbs feel like jelly. Kay’s confirmation proves her right; despite her instincts not too, trusting Dysar (to an extent) had been the right decision. She leans down, kissing his cooling forehead. “You’re going to be fine,” she whispers, ignoring the tears spill down her nose and onto his skin.

When she straightens and leans her neck back against the bulkhead, she doesn’t bother hiding the tear stains on her cheeks nor fix her appearance in an act of health. There’s nothing any of them can do for her now, so there’s no point hiding how she’s slowly decaying.

“How much longer ‘til we get to Hoth?”

“Two hours,” he replies warily, then says, “Jyn Erso, your vitals are – ”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” she cuts him off, shaking her head. “I’m sure they’re kriffing awful.”

Despite all the jabs at his intelligence, Kaytoo’s smarter than she says he is. It doesn’t take long for him to see the empty bottle on the floor beneath him and connect it to Cassian’s improvement and her general decline. “You only had one bottle.”

“You got it,” she mumbles, eyes still closed but she gives him a weak thumbs up anyway. “Congratu–kriffing–lations. You want a – ” she coughs, feeling as if her lungs are going to come out through her throat, “want a prize, Kay?”

“Why?” he asks, no accusation in his voice. He sounds generally curious, as if he can’t figure out this act of selflessness. To be fair, it’s hard to wrap her mind around, too. Before Scarif, she’d only cared about one person – herself – and now she’s sacrificing herself every other week for whatever reason.

She blames it partially on the Alliance but mostly on Cassian. After all, it’s his fault that she’s fallen in love with him.

“Mhm. Told you – I made a deal. Got help for the Rebellion, but only. . .only got one cure. Coulda gotten more, but,” she lifts a shoulder, wincing when it tugs at her wound, “we needed those supplies, so. Made a deal.”

“I didn’t think you cared about the Rebellion.” And he’s not wrong, not exactly, but she’d spent a long time on her own with no aim. While she doesn’t agree with a lot of what the Alliance does, it both gives her an outlet to fight against the Empire and a purpose. Even with its flaws, it’s a cause she’s proud to fight for. At first she’d only stayed for Cassian, but now she stays for herself and what she believes in.

Besides, she should have died on Scarif. This feels like penance, in a way. A worthy sacrifice.

“Didn’t used to, but. . .it feels right, doin’ this. Don’t mind dying for this.”

“Your chances of survival are approximately – ”  

“Don’t,” she raises her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m sure it’s in the negatives, anyway.”

“It isn’t. If it was, you would be dead already.”

“Comforting.”

A silence falls over the three of them. Cassian shifts restlessly on her lap, but he doesn’t wake up. She wishes that he would open his eyes so she could see those beautiful browns one more time, but that’s a selfish thought. He needs his rest if he’s going to get better, and she doesn’t want him to see her like this. She doesn’t think she’s strong enough to bear the weight of his anger once she realizes what she’s done.

That same thought must be going through Kay’s mind, because he says, “Cassian won’t forgive you for this.”  

Either way – if she lives or dies – it’s doubtful that this will be something he gets over. She swallows down the guilt that’s settled in the back of her throat. While she has no regrets for what she’s done, she doesn’t want to cause him any further pain.

“He’s strong,” she whispers. “Stronger than me. He’ll be okay.” _He has to be_. “You’ll be there for him, right, Kay?”

“Of course I will,” he replies affrontedly, as if the option of leaving Cassian hasn’t even crossed him. It probably hasn’t; she doesn’t know exactly how long the two of them have been traveling and working together, but she can’t imagine Cassian without the droid trailing behind him. It must have been a decade, maybe more.

“Good.” Her strength is slowly fading, eyes fluttering closed. “Can you do me. . .a favor? Tell him that I. . .love him. Once m’gone.”

She can feel the weight of Kaytoo’s stare on her, even without looking at him. It’s heavy, unyielding, clear that he doesn’t agree with her. If her death doesn’t break Cassian, this will. She knows that.

But he has to know, even if the pain is almost too much to bear. She’s just sorry she’d been too much of a coward to tell him beforehand.

For a second, she thinks that Kay is going to refuse her – she wouldn’t blame him if he does – but he instead reaches down to pick up the empty vial at her feet. The sides of it are still a bit wet with the antidote, but –  “You will have to tell him yourself, Jyn Erso.”

She frowns. “Kay – “

“Since you’re so insistent on martyring yourself, I suppose I have no other choice than to save you.”

“Kay. . .” What’s the point? She doesn’t want him to get his hopes up, even a little bit, just for them to be dashed when she dies. Cassian will be broken enough, she doesn’t need him to be, too.

“If you fall asleep, I will kill you,” he threatens, turning away from her and marching out of the room. “I’m serious, Jyn Erso. _Stay. Awake_. I will be back.”

It’s not giving up – it’s just giving _in_.

Jyn closes her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun! getting to the end of the story here, folks. one more (long) chapter to go! 
> 
> not sure when the next update will be, however. i'm going to be studying abroad in rome for the next three months, so it's going to be a little difficult to find time to write. i will do my best, though! i owe y'all an ending so i can assure u this story won't be abandoned


	6. Chapter 6

Jyn can’t feel her legs. Or her back. Or her hands.

Are they shaking? Her eyes won’t open. Her hands have been shaking this whole time, trembling like those of a frightened child. She wonders if they’re shaking now, because she can’t feel or see them, and she’d left them tangled in Cassian’s hair before she’d fallen asleep.

No, not asleep. Floating. On the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness. Floating and sinking and floating and sinking. Head bobbing above the waves. Inhale, exhale – breathing no more than a quiet wheeze in the back of her throat. She can feel her chest still, feel how it aches with each desperate gasp, but that’s fading, slowly numbing. She’ll be okay soon.

It’s all fading.

 

_“Kay?”_

_“Cassian. Based on my readings, I expected you to wake up eight minutes earlier.”_

_“Kriff. . .my head. . .”_

_“Don’t move. You will only cause yourself further harm.”_

_“Where’s Jyn? Did she. . .did she make it back?”_

_“She is resting in another room. I will let her know you have woken up when she returns.”_

_“Ah. . .good. That’s. . .that’s good. . .”_

_“Go back to sleep, Cassian. I will be here.”_

_“Jyn, too. . .”_

 

Once, when she’d been very little, she’d burned herself on the stove while her mama was cooking, eager to help only to flinch away in pain when she’d placed her palm on the hot surface. Her mama had soothed her, shushing her gently while running her hand under cold water, and Jyn had cried and cried.

There is no one to soothe her now.

Where her body isn’t numb, it’s on fire. It’s like the moment with the oven when she’d been younger, except her entirety is roasting, being burned, being set on fire over and over again. When the embers burn out into ash, it just starts in a never ending cycle.

She moans in pain, trying to push off what threatens to suffocate her. It’s heavy, too constricting – a blanket? Multiple ones? No, that can’t be right. She’s supposed to be with Cassian. Where is he?

Where is he?

She's drowning, breathing quickly as she struggles to fight two separate wars: one in her mind and one in her body. He's not here. He doesn't abandon her, not like everyone else; he didn't on Jedha or Eadu or Yavin 4 or Scarif. Why now? Why has he left her?

Codependent. That's what Jyn has heard people call them back on base. The two of them are _codependent._

She doesn't care what people say about them. She just wants him. 

 

_“Kriffing hell – help me turn her onto her side, she’s seizing!”_

_“Her heart rate is increasing at a dangerous rate. She needs a sedative before – “_

_“I thought your antidote was supposed to work! Why the hell isn’t it working? Why isn’t she. . .”_

_“I will keep working.”_

_“Can you fix this? Can you help her?”_

_“...”_

_“Kay?”_

_“I. . .I don’t know.”_

 

She’s floating again, but – different.

Different floating, like she has no control of her limbs. Her arms lift and lower without her control, ebbing and flowing up and down and up and down.

It doesn’t hurt anymore. It's dark and warm and nice. She likes it in here, likes watching the vague shapes morph into other things through a tinted window. A blob turns into a differently-shaped blob.

Lets out a breath. Bubbles. Her chest is tight, there's pressure, but it doesn't hurt.

Cassian still isn't here, but at least she's no longer on fire. 

 

_"She’s going to wake up, right? She’ll be fine.”_

_“We’ve done all we can, Captain Andor.”_

_“But you – “_

_“There is nothing more that we can do. I’m sorry. What she needs now is rest.”_

_“I. . .I understand. Thank you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter bridging to the end of the story! hopefully, i'll have that done soon and this will tide you over until then. much love! <3
> 
> i apologize for the length - i thought it flowed better as its own separate chapter instead of being tacked on to the end of 5 or the beginning of 7


	7. Chapter 7

When Jyn opens her eyes, she knows she’s dead.

The fact isn’t upsetting – she comes to the realization rather gracefully. However, it does come with feelings of regret and disappointment, especially regarding the lack of time she’d been able to spend with Cassian. She hopes he doesn’t mourn her for too long, doesn’t spend too much grieving. As much as it pains her to think of him with someone else, it something she wants for him; he deserves happiness more than most people.

There isn’t a blinding light at the end of a tunnel or a door she she has to walk through that breaks through the veil, but that doesn’t make the circumstances any less legitimate in her eyes. She’s never been one to believe in that Jedi force-ghost nonsense or the idea of a paradise after death; if it does exist, she’ll be headed straight toward the galaxy’s hell, but she knows all that’s going to happen is that she’ll cease to exist, leaving nothing but a body behind.

If the pain she’s in is anything to go by, though, she’s defied her beliefs and landed herself straight in some sort of purgatory.

Once she manages to rid the crust from around her eyelashes, she starts fully gauging her surroundings and what is going to be her subsequent fate for the rest of eternity. It seems that hell is a sterile, white medical room. Hell is cold, her breath fogging up the oxygen mask over her mouth. Hell is a needle in her arm, triggering her flight or fight response, but when she goes to move it, she realizes that hell is also being strapped down to a bed. Hell is a pain in her lower back, hell is numbness of her leg, hell is. . .

Hell looks suspiciously like Hoth.

Hell _is_ Hoth.

Jyn comes back to herself with a panicked gasp, sucking in as much air as she possibly can through the mechanism strapped to her face. Her back arches, straining against her restraints until the skin around the leather straps goes white with her effort, cutting into her circulation. The room she’s in is entirely closed off, curtains surrounding her from all sides. The feeling of being trapped in the small space triggers her claustrophobia; while it’s not enough to bring back her memories of the cave or the bunker, she can feel the familiar panic squeezing her insides.

_Why is she tied down? Why can’t she get out? Why can’t she breathe?_

Blood rushes into her ears, covering up the sound of her heartbeat monitor going wild as her anxiety skyrockets with each passing second. Wild-eyed, she thrashes on the bed, shaking her head back and forth in an attempt to break past what’s holding her down.

_Where’scassianneedtogetfreewhereishewhyamialive–_

If she’s not dead yet, she’s going to be soon.

Hands tug at her skin and she cries out, not wanting to be touched. Fire shoots down her back when she tries to shy away from them, feeling more like a cornered, terrified animal than a patient in the medbay. Why are they treating her like this? Why won’t they let her go and see Cassian? Don’t they understand that they’re only making things worse?

“No! You can’t sedate her, she’ll react badly, it’ll only make things worse! Let me through, you need to let me through, I can _help her_ – “

Somewhere in the back of her mind she registers someone coming forward to her bed, pushing away the hands that are trying to harm her. The sound of the person’s familiar accent rolls over her body and into her ears, relaxing her just a bit – but not enough. Her breathing is still coming in short pants and her eyes are still rolling back into her head with panic. She’s still thrashing in her restraints. Why is she here she can’t remember what happened where’s Cassian?

“You need to take deep breaths, okay? That’s it, Jyn.  For Sith’s sake, just let me through, can’t you see that she _needs_ me? Kriffing thank you, I – ”

She whimpers, cutting the man off in the middle of his sentence. She regrets the sound immediately since it stops the cool melody of his voice. Shrill beeping becomes the only thing she hears without the distraction of his words; the panic rises back up, her chest so tight it feels like it’s going to burst –

Until something soft is placed over her shaking form. In the thin medical gown she’s wearing, the garment immediately provides her with a gentle, calming sort of warm. Fur tickles her mouth, and when she wrinkles her nose at the strange sensation, a familiar scent washes over her, immediately enveloping her senses and melting over her panic. She breathes in deeply for the first time since she’s awaken, eyes closing as she stops struggling against the restraints.

She feels safer now, just with this coat lying on top of her. No, not a coat – it’s a parka, a blue one that’s well-worn and so soft it feels like flannel, with brown fur running across the hood.

“Hey,” the voice says, that oh so familiar voice that she’s been craving to hear ever since she’d poured the antidote down his throat and prayed for his survival. “There you are. Are you back with me, Jyn?”

She opens her eyes again, surprised to find that they’re wet, moist eyelashes slotting together like the pieces of a puzzle. Cassian sits at the edge of her bed, his bootless feet clad only in woollen socks just barely skimming the top of the ground. He’s working on the restraints on her wrists, her legs already freed. Each accidental touch of his skin against hers sends jolts through her weak and deprived system.

“Cass. . .” she croaks, then licks her lips and tries again, “Cassian. What. . .”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead focuses solely on undoing her restraints. “You kept seizing,” he explains at her inquisitive look, his voice carefully neutral. “It was to stop you from hurting yourself.”

 _Or to stop her from hurting others._ That goes unsaid.

“Did I. . .”

He seems to know what she’s asking. “No. You didn’t hurt anyone. Not. . .” he swallows, looks away but she still manages to see the pain that flashes through a crack in his mask. “Not physically, anyway.”

That has her flinching, wanting to curl away from him and hide her face. It had been impossible to prevent her actions from hurting him, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Cassian comes first, even over herself.

It’s surprising revelation to come by when she realizes that perhaps even the Rebellion does too. It’s been a long time since she’s had a cause to care so deeply about; Saw’s mission had been her life for such a long time that losing it had completely killed her passion and fiery determination that she’d used to be known to embody.

(If given the choice between the two, however, it’s always going to be Cassian. She doesn’t care about the inevitable consequences this line of thinking might bring – in her eyes, his safety is the most important.)

“Was the. . .intel good?” she rasps, content with his current condition and moving on to focus on the next priority.

“That can’t possibly be what you’re thinking about right now,” he says flatly. “Are you serious? You’re asking about the _intel?”_

“Yes, I’m asking about _the intel_. I need to make sure that I didn’t completely kriff up the mission.” It had been a mess from the start, but she’d tried to salvage it. If they’re both alive and the information is what Dysar said it was, then she considers the past few days a success.

“The karking intel was _fine!_ I cannot believe you right now, kriffing _hell,_ Jyn – ”

She interrupts him before he can continue on with his rant. Relief washes over her in waves – it all worked out. All she has to do now is convince Cassian that what she’d done had been for the best. “Good.”

“Are you kriffing serious,” he repeats, voice dark.

“Sometimes you have to take risks to get the mission done,” she shoots back. “You of all people should understand that, _Captain Andor._ ”

He flinches at that, and maybe, just maybe, she’s gone a bit too far with that one.

There’s no point in trying to explain herself, especially when she doesn’t even feel the slightest bit of remorse for her actions. She doesn’t regret giving Cassian the entirety of the antidote and would absolutely do it again if necessary – that’s a fact of which they’re both aware. Even disregarding her feelings for him, he’s the more valuable agent. Losing her would not damage the Rebellion like it would if he had been the one sacrificing himself for her.

He’s dedicated and loyal, she’s unpredictable and flighty. The decision here is quite obvious.

Still, she feels the need say something to fill the silence; the only noise current;y permeating their small space is the sound of her heart-rate monitor and the soft murmur of nurses and droids from across the room. The two of them are hidden solely by the curtains surrounding their space and giving them the illusion of privacy. “Cass, I. . .”

“Don’t,” he cuts her off, shaking his head and holding up a single hand. His voice wavers, shaking slightly with a desperation she can hear only with her practiced ears, posture tense and rigid, sitting stock-straight like he’s at attention and she’s his commanding officer. “Not now. Just. Can I hold you for a little bit?”

His request takes her off-guard, leaving her speechless. She closes her mouth and can only nod in response, swallowing the lump in her throat as he moves down next to her, cradling her weak form to his chest. With a little gentle maneuvering, he pulls his parka over the both of them, his body emanating a warth she craves during her coldest moments on Hoth.

For now, she can forget the wall that’s been built between them, one that’s been created by her actions. She curls her frigid, stiff fingers into the front of his shirt and tucks her head underneath his chin, shuddering slightly. It’s hard to pretend that she’s not affected by the way his arms tighten around her as if he’s afraid she’ll slip out of his grip, or the splash of cold tears onto her hair.

She doesn’t know how long they lay there before she speaks, her voice cracking into the silence and becoming real. “I’m not sorry for what I did.”

It hangs in the air like a storm cloud, fat and heavy and threatening to spill. Cassian doesn’t answer for a very long time – so long that she thinks he hasn’t heard her, so long that she begins to curl up into herself, weak, like a coward.

And then – ”Jyn, I am very angry with you.”

She deflates. Even though that’s the answer she’d been expecting, even though it’s the answer _he_ thinks that she deserves, she doesn’t want to hear it. “I don’t regret it,” she tells him, speaking into his shirt, words bold and unapologetic when she can’t see the emotions flashing in his eyes. “I would do it again.”

He shifts back, releasing her from his embrace so he can look at her better. It’s not easy to keep her chin up and defiance in her eyes when she’s in so much physical and mental pain, but she manages. Her actions are something she stands by, even if Cassian’s reaction has her heart breaking.

For a second, she wonders if this is it for them. If this is the breaking point that pushes him away from her for good. What is she supposed to do then? He’s her rock, her anchor, one of the reasons she’s still working with the Rebellion. While the cause has begun to mean something to her personally, it would be too difficult to see him every day and know that he’s no longer hers.

At least he’s alive. She would rather have him alive and angry with her than dead – dead and feeling nothing at all.

“I will _not_ have you sacrificing yourself for me,” he growls out, hardening his features in his displeasure. “I don’t care what the circumstances are or how you feel, I can’t go through that again, Jyn! Waking up to see you – to see you like _that_ – ”

“I’m sorry,” she says carefully, picking at a loose thread on her blanket so she doesn’t have to look him in the eye, “that you had to go through that. I thought you would still be unconscious until we got to Hoth.” Her horror at his prone body upon returning to the shuttle is a feeling she doesn’t wish on anyone.

“That doesn’t make it any better – _how_ is that supposed to make me feel better? Even with the antidote, the chances of me surviving were low. How could you risk yourself like that? You would have been fine if you had just taken the karking medicine like you were supposed to!”

 _Would have been fine_. At that, she smiles wanly. How could she be fine without him at her side? How could he even think for a second that she would be okay without him? The thought alone makes bile rise up in her throat, threatening to spill past her lips before she swallows it down.

 _Codependent_. Yeah, they’re kriffing codependent. She doesn’t give a fuck.

She shifts, uncomfortable underneath the scrutiny of his gaze. That movement brings the IV taped to her hand back into the forefront of her mind, sending her heart lurching. She can’t afford to fall back in panic now, she needs to _focus_ –

Cassian is still talking. “I don’t care that you got the intel, not if it means losing –  _are you even listening to me?_ ”

“I’m a bit, ah, distracted,” she admits, reaching over to her hand where there’s a needle taped to the back of it, “considering what’s sticking out of my arm right now.”

It’s a testament to how out of it she is that the feel of the IV in her arm barely registers, how it only sends a dull spike of fear through her. It’s easy to ignore in her current state, but she uses it as a way out of this conversation she doesn’t want to have.

“Don’t!” he snaps, covering up her hand with his own, preventing her access to the IV so she can’t pull it out. “Stars, you are the _worst_ patient.” His face softens, likely forgetting his anger in the face of the traumas of her past rising up inside of her. “I know it’s hard, but that needs to stay in. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies weakly, her one word answering his question more broadly than intended. It’s easy to ignore the IV, but she’s not okay – wouldn’t be, even if it hadn’t been there. She hadn’t been thinking of this particular consequence when she’d given him the entirety of the antidote. “I’m fine.” 

Cassian probably knows she’s lying, but doesn’t say a word about it. Instead, he asks, voice dangerously calm, “Do you’ve understand what you’ve done?”

It’s an obvious question with an even more obvious answer. “I saved your life.”

“Jyn.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” she complains, pushing at his chest weakly. His words make her want to run, make her want to slide out of the bed and get as far away as possible so she doesn’t have to deal with this. “It’s fine! It worked out! We’re both alive, aren’t we? Let’s just kriffing _move on!”_

“Do you even know the damage that you’ve done to _yourself?_ We’re both alive, yes, but the poison ate away at some of your muscles and nerves in your back and leg. The medics say you may never walk without a limp again – did you think about _that_ when you saved nothing for yourself? Did you, Jyn?”

She has to be honest, especially since the news about her current physical condition makes her flinch away. How is she supposed to fight with a bum leg, one that’s going to slow her down at every turn? What is she if not a soldier? Cassian’s been on light duty ever since Scarif because of the implants in his back – will the same happen to her?

It’s not – she doesn’t _pity_ Cassian, but she doesn’t know how to slow down like he’s been forced to. Decommissioning had been a struggle for him – she remembers long nights spent consoling him that he isn’t weak or useless because of what happened on Scarif (yet another injury that had been her fault) – but he’s always been stronger than her. Even with his help (if he still wants to help her after all this), she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to go on without fighting.

Not that she can ever voice these thoughts out loud.

“At least now you’ll have someone to do physical therapy with,” she swallows weakly, offering him a wane smile. “Maybe this’ll actual force you to go.”

Her attempt at deflection is met with a scowl. He, of course, sees right through her, as he always does. “We aren’t talking about me! Your condition isn’t a joke!”

“No,” she agrees quickly, quietly. Her voice isn’t defeated, but there’s no spark in it, no fire. Despite the humor in her earlier words, her attempt to make this lighter, she’s entirely aware of her current circumstances. “No, it isn’t.”

All of a sudden, Cassian pulls her close again, damned spy reflexes catching her unaware. “You really scared me,” he whispers into her hair. “I thought I lost you. Why the hell would you do something like that, Jyn? You almost _died!"_

“It’s so obvious, Cass,” she mumbles, strength leaving her with each passing minute. Her lower body is pleasantly numb – though now that she knows the reason for that, it sends pricks of anxiety through her body. She’s useless now. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I don’t understand,” he grits out, brows furrowed in confusion. She wants to reach up and smooth the wrinkles on his forehead with her thumb, but her arms feel too heavy to lift. “Say what? You’re going to have to be a bit clearer, Jyn.”

There must be some sort of drug floating through her veins that’s making her feel lighter than air. Not a sedative, like they’d tried to give her earlier, but something that takes away both her pain and her inhibitions. The words just flow out; there’s no stopping them once they get started. “You know – I like you a lot. More than like you.”

Even with the drug, she can’t say that one pesky word. The word that they’ve never said to each other, the emotion that she hadn’t even been sure she’d felt until Cassian had been dying in front of her.

 _Love_. _I love you._

“Are you – ” He knows what she’s trying to say, even when her words sound slurred to her ears.

She snuggles closer, not caring that they’d been fighting only a minute earlier. One of the things Cassian’s been working on teaching her is that wanting comfort and affection isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s difficult for her to understand and actively seek it out, even when she wants it, but now she doesn’t care much about looking helpless. “Mhm. Yeah.”

“Are you trying to say – ” His voice sounds strangled, as if he can’t believe what she’s telling him.

“Yes, you nerfherder,” she laughs (more like giggles – but that’s the drug’s fault; she would never giggle), kissing his neck, his chest, any part of him that she can reach. “You’re a nerfherder.”

“I am, yeah,” Cassian murmurs, sounding a bit dazed. “Jyn, I. . .I feel the same. I’m so terribly angry with you, but you’re. . .we can continue this conversation another time, yeah? You need to get some rest.”

Awkwardly, he shifts as if he’s planning on sliding out from underneath his coat and out of the bed, but Jyn’s clutches to his chest so tightly that he can barely move without disturbing her. “I should go,” he whispers, kissing her hair. “You have to let me go, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart,” she mumbles back – except yeah, she kriffing is. “I want you to stay. I don’t kriffing care what the medics say.”

“You know, I don’t really care either,” he says without hesitation, as if that had been the answer he’d been hoping for. He settles back down on the bed, pulling her even tighter to his chest. She breathes in his scent, the feel of his warm chest against her cheek, and the sound of his heartbeat beating in her ears. He’s here, he’s alive, she saved him.

“Sleep well, Jyn,” she hears him say softly, so full of awe and wonder and _love_. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

“Love you,” she mumbles back, so out of it that it doesn’t even register what she’s just said. It’s doubtful that she’ll even remember saying it in the morning.

Just before she falls back asleep, she hears his response, “Yeah, me too. I. . love you. I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we've done it! we've hit the end! thank you so much for all of your support and love over the past few months. this was supposed to be done back in january, but real life got into the way and pushed it back, so thank you all so much for understanding during the long delays<3
> 
> see y'all on the next one!


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